


lookin' from dorsal to tail.

by boysandghouls (blindedbythetomlinsun)



Category: Buzzfeed Outsmarted (Web Series), Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series), Buzzfeed: The Try Guys, Buzzfeed: Worth It (Web Series), Jaws (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst and Humor, Attempt at Humor, Blatant Overuse of Italics, Canon-Typical Violence, Death, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Jaws AU, M/M, Minor Character Death, One-Liners, Sarcasm, ambiguous setting, at some point, haha - Freeform, i love that movie and everything fits perfectly, i mean it's a jaws au guys lmao idk what else to tell you, i was so proud of myself, it follows the movie but also doesn't ..., loosely based off of Two Harbours - Catalina Island, somewhere between the 70's - early 2000's, unspecified time period
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-28
Updated: 2018-05-08
Packaged: 2019-02-07 21:29:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 25,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12849885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blindedbythetomlinsun/pseuds/boysandghouls
Summary: Zach gulps, scrambling away from the boat's edge and heads backwards, not taking his eyes off of the water and what he now knows lies below the turbulent waves.He backs slowly into the cabin, stopping just inside the doorway, and turns to Shane."You're gonna need a bigger boat."





	1. Prologue.

**Author's Note:**

> I love this movie so much and it occurred to me that all the characters fit perfectly with Buzzfeeders? so You Know I Had To Do It To Em. this'll still be my AU and therefore there will be changes and won't follow the movie completely directly, but it'll still stay pretty true.  
> I hope you guys enjoy it as much as I enjoy this idea!!!

Zach feels the wind ruffle his hair as he stares out at the surf, standing at the crest of the hill. He peers at the horizon for any clouds heading their way, but the sky is clear for the most part. The present breeze is simply that and nothing more, no strong gusts to blow some storms over their quaint little town, no-siree.

Zach shines his badge briefly, just because he can, and nods to himself before turning to look at the surf rather than the sky.

The ocean has always been simultaneously beautiful and terrifying to Zach. On the one hand, it's pretty, and the way the sun shines on the waves is such an ethereal beauty that can't ever be replaced. On the other hand, the ocean is _big_. And _deep_. Like, _super fucking deep_. Who knows what's under there? Zach sure doesn't. And he doesn't _want_  to know, either. Fuck, the ocean is a godless place. He hates it.

Still. He lives on an island. Not too far from the mainland, twenty-two miles to be exact, but still. An island.

Zach shakes his head at the empty beach and turns to head back home for lunch.

 

"Tyler, put me down!"

Tyler laughs as he looks up at Safiya, who's situated on his shoulders. The water ripples around them as they splash around, the beach empty save for the two of them.

Saf giggles, burying a hand in Tyler's hair as he sways, pretending to drop her too many times for her to think of it as a serious threat anymore.

"C'mon, Tyler, put me down, I wanna swim!" Safiya insists, combing her fingers through his hair gently.

"But I like you right where you are," Tyler replies, grinning widely as he wades farther into the ocean. The water comes up to his chest now, but he can still touch the bottom, so he has nothing to worry about.

"Ty, you can't tread water with me on your shoulders," Saf protests, attempting to clamber down from her perch.

"It'd be a cool experiment," Tyler replies, and Safiya smacks his head gently.

"You're gonna drown for nothing!" she exclaims, but Tyler doesn't ease his grip on her legs.

He walks further, the water getting deep enough that he has to almost walk on tip-toe in order to keep touching the bottom. He has no clue how Safiya's still safely perched on his shoulders.

Something brushes against his leg and he shivers and recoils violently, the action causing him to unceremoniously drop Saf into the water with a resounding _splash_.

"Tyler!" she shrieks upon resurfacing. "What the hell?"

"Something touched me!" he protests, pulling her close.

"We're in the ocean, Tyler," she deadpans, and he rolls his eyes, replying, "Shut up. Race you to that buoy?"

Safiya's already gone like a rocket, leaving Tyler laughing as he protests, "Hey, I didn't even say 'go' yet!"

He hurries after her, swimming gracefully as if he were an Olympic swimmer. It shouldn't be hard to catch up to Saf given his skills.

The feel of the water is smooth, almost silky against his skin as he glides through it. Aside from the salt and occasional floating plant brushing against him, it feels lovely.

He gets distracted for a second, caught up in the feel of the water, and takes a break from their race to just dive under, doing a flip underwater just for fun. He can't feel the bottom any longer - he can't even tell you where the bottom _is_  at this point, or how far down it resides. 

Tyler swims down, somersaulting underneath the waves, and heads back up to the surface. He shakes his head, causing water droplets to fly everywhere, and blinks his eyes open.

Saf is nowhere to be seen.

Tyler squints, thinking the glare of the sun is playing tricks on his eyes, and swivels around, looking.

The buoy isn't too far ahead, but he can't see her there.

Unease settles in his stomach as he treads, then swims hastily towards the buoy. He touches it, using it to rest, as he searches the coast for his girlfriend.

He feels something touch him again, _his leg, oh god_ , and he recoils, attempting to pull himself onto the buoy. He only just realizes how far from the shore he is, and how nobody knows that he and Safiya are here.

"Saf?" he calls. No reply. The dread increases. "Saf!" he shouts, louder this time, and he feels like throwing up. He searches the water surrounding him for any sign of her - her hair or even just her _body_.

Instead, he feels the water stir from underneath him, bubbles forming at the surface beside him.

Tyler stays stock-still, trying to breathe evenly, and waits. Maybe if he's still enough, whatever's down there will pass.

A sudden surge of water overcomes him as something surfaces and Tyler screams, only to be met with hysterical laughter.

"Hey, I won!"

It's Saf, and she is the most comforting thing he's ever seen. Her laughing smile, the sun shining on the droplets in her hair, and her eyes full of mirth. _God_ , is she a sight for sore eyes.

"Saf, holy shit," he exclaims, pushing her shoulder. "You scared me, I thought -!" He cuts himself off before he can finish that thought, closing his mouth.

Safiya grins.

"I got you pretty good, didn't I?" she preens.

"I couldn't find you, and I felt something underneath me, and - and -"

Safiya's smile turns soft and sympathetic, and she reaches out a hand to squeeze Tyler's.

"Aw, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you worry. I just wanted to spook you. I promise I'm fine, no sea monsters got me, and they're not gonna get you, either."

Tyler sighs, shaking his head, and leans in for a kiss. Safiya gladly gives in, wrapping both of her arms around him as they both tread gently and kiss.

Tyler shivers suddenly and pulls away.

"Saf, it's not funny, quit scaring me like that."

Safiya looks at him questioningly, head tilted in confusion.

"What?"

"You're touching my leg or something, I know you're trying to scare me again."

Everything suddenly seems quiet. The sound of the waves somehow feels muted, the birds crying overhead seem to vanish.

It's quiet.

"I'm not touching you," Safiya says slowly, raising her hands from around him and moving away from him to showcase the lack of contact between them.

The waves push them so they're a foot or so apart now, and this. This is what makes all the difference.

"Then," Tyler says slowly, voice low and quiet, " _what the fuck is undernea_ -"

It happens so fast, Tyler can't even comprehend it. There's pain, nothing but hot, searing pain as he's yanked beneath the suddenly-tumultuous waves, mouth open in an agonizing scream that's desperate to come out but is hindered by water.

"TYLER!" Safiya shouts, but it's muffled and Tyler's gone under and he's struggling, _god_ , he's struggling but it _hurts_ , it fucking _hurts_ , he can't breathe his lungs are screaming or maybe _he's_  screaming and he wants to get to the surface _has_  to get to the surface has to get to Saf has to make sure she's safe make sure she's okay he _has to get to Saf_ but but but but _he can't move_ his limbs won't work something's holding his legs _oh god oh god oh god oh god_ the pain is immense god far too unbearable for words his body's on fire everything is ripping apart he's in agony he's never felt this much pain and god fucking dammit _he just wants it to end_.

Safiya tosses and turns in the water, frantically searching for where Tyler had gone under. Something _took_  him. _She needs to find him_. She dives under, keeping her eyes open, but it's no good: the salt stings and the water's too dark for her to glimpse anything except for ...

For red.

There's a commotion a good twenty feet underneath her - hurried, erratic, frantic movement and bubbles, so many bubbles, Tyler must be screaming, Tyler must be trying to get to her, oh god, she sees the bubbles, sees him struggling, but most of all she sees _red red red red RED_.

She breaks the surface, and, hyperventilating, swims as fast as she can back to shore, choking back sobs the whole way through.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> when I first thought of this AU, for some reason, I just KNEW that Zach had to be Chief Brody.  
> y'all don't understand the immense joy I felt when I watched The Try Guys Swim With Sharks and found out that Zach's biggest fear is the ocean. I was worried that he wouldn't have a problem with it and that this was gonna be a Real AU, but I'M SO PROUD THAT I CHOSE ZACH AND IT TURNS OUT HE FIT THE PART PERFECTLY.


	2. The Town Who Cried Shark.

 "I think you're fine, sweetheart. You'll only look bad if you keep messing with your uniform."

Andrew sighs in exasperation, fixing the wrinkles in his shirt and adjusting his collar in the mirror. No matter what Steven tells him, he knows his fidgeting will result in improvement rather than harm.

Steven pries Andrew's hands away from his clothes, holding them instead.

"I know you're nervous, but you'll be okay, I swear it," he says reassuringly, kissing one of Andrew's hands.

Andrew gives a small smile, marveling in how Steven always manages to make him feel at peace with even the simplest of gestures.

"I love you," Andrew murmurs in reply, pressing a swift kiss to Steven's cheek. "You'll be fine here for the day?"

Steven nods happily, head turning in the direction of their bedroom door.

"I have Jonathan and Kat to keep me company, don't worry about me. Just concern yourself with doing a good job today."

Andrew sighs inwardly, nodding in agreement. It's not that he's _dreading_  today, but ... He's totally dreading today.

"Hey, wait," Steven exclaims, reaching around to tug on something adorning Andrew's neck. "You can't go to work with this towel around your neck, silly."

Andrew frowns in confusion as Steven removes the towel.

"I didn't even know it was there," Andrew admits, then checks his watch. "Shoot, okay, I gotta go."

He bids Steven a quick goodbye before heading into his children's respective rooms, pressing kisses to each of their sleeping heads.

"I'll see you later," he calls to Steven before closing the front door behind him as he leaves.

Andrew takes a moment to lean against the closed door, breathing in and out in a calming manner.

It's his first day, and his family has only _just_  moved here from Los Angeles, and everything's just ... A lot. It's a lot to take in, all at once. New job, new town, new people, new house, hell, even new _family_. Kat's just barely two years old, and Jonathan himself is five.

And to top it all off, he's been called in for an emergency. His first day and he's already dealing with a goddamn emergency - what the hell even happens in this small town that's urgent enough that he needs to be there pronto? The mayor sprained an ankle? The Fourth of July preparations aren't following the plan as much as everyone would like?

Well, whatever it is, he's bound to find out soon enough.

Andrew straightens out his uniform once more before heading down the porch steps and to his car, sliding in with a practiced, easy motion.

If his hands tremble a little on the steering wheel as he drives to work, that's his own business and no one else's.

 

"Ilnyckyj, glad you could make it," Zach greets, clasping his Deputy's hand briefly. "There's ... Kind of an emergency."

"Yeah, I figured," Andrew replies solemnly, and Zach can't help but think that this guy's gonna be a real stick in the mud. He doesn't say it, of course, but _god_  is he dreading working with Deputy Andrew Ilnyckyj just the tiniest bit.

"What's the problem, Chief?" Andrew prompts, after Zach has gone uncharacteristically quiet in thought. Zach shakes his head, gesturing for the blond man to follow him.

"In my office, come on."

Zach leads Andrew through the main area to a hallway, in which Zach's office lies behind one of the various doors. He opens the first door on the left to reveal Safiya Nygaard, hunched over and in tears.

Zach shuffles behind his desk, taking a seat, and indicates for Andrew to pull up a chair and sit to the side.

"Saf," Zach says earnestly, and notices the brief flicker of surprise in Andrew's eyes, probably at the casual greeting. "Deputy Andrew Ilnyckyj, Safiya Nygaard. Ms. Nygaard, Deputy Ilnyckyj," he introduces, then adds, "Saf is my friend," just to clear the air so they can get to the point.

Andrew nods in understanding.

"Can you tell me why you're here, Ms. Nygaard?" Andrew asks gently, and Zach's genuinely a little taken aback at the softness in his voice. He feels bad admitting it, but, he didn't think the guy had it in him.

"W-We're practically the same a-age," Saf scoffs - an attempt at humour - through her tears. "I-I can tell by how you look. Please, c-call me Safiya."

Andrew nods again.

"Okay, Safiya. Can you tell me why you're here?"

Zach's heard this story, heard it twice to be exact, but they say the third time's the charm and so maybe this time around, _just maybe_ , he can actually make sense of it.

Safiya wipes her eyes, taking in a deep, shuddering breath before fixing her gaze on Andrew.

"I-I was swimming an hour ago with my boyfriend, Tyler Williams," she explains, and Zach can't help but notice how her voice still manages to crack on the word "boyfriend", just as it had twice before.

"Yes?" Andrew prompts, nodding at her to continue as she takes a moment for herself.

"We were just goofing around, w-we visit the beach every day to swim, so it's not like this was out of the ordin-nary, or anything. We'd been in the shallows for a bit, I was on his shoulders-s, and I kept joking and telling him to put me d-down."

Zach watches Andrew's face as Saf speaks, watches how he reacts to everything. Granted, Saf hasn't gotten to the real kicker yet, but Andrew still looks just as invested. Either he genuinely cares, or he's just real good at his job. Zach wishes he can figure him out. His old Deputy, Zack Evans, had been a lot of fun before he'd been switched with Andrew. "Zach/k Squared" everyone would call them, and Zack would always joke that his was the true, correct spelling of the name.

Now Zack's in Los Angeles, in the LAPD, and Andrew's here.

And Andrew's going to have to prove himself to Zach, because Zach doesn't get on with just _anyone_.

"He suggested we race to the buoy," Safiya continues, having gone on with her story a little ways while Zach had been in his thoughts. "I ..." she laughs a little, "I was always so eager to beat him at anything, so I dove into the water and started swimming before he'd even finished."

Zach notices with brief pleasure that her tear-induced stammer is gone.

"I was an idiot, I thought it would be a fun practical joke to scare him," she goes on, running a hand through her hair in frustration. "I'd already reached the buoy and noticed that he'd stopped racing to dive under - Tyler loved to swim, he ... He was like an Olympic swimmer, the way he moved under the waves. He liked to do flips and tricks and ... He loved the water.

"So I hid, barely submerged, behind the buoy, and I watched him search for me, and - god, I was just giggling to myself thinking, 'This is gonna be such a funny prank!' but oh god, it wasn't because ..." Safiya takes a deep breath. "As I noticed him approaching the buoy, I dove under, thinking I was gonna surface and startle him, maybe touch his leg underwater to really scare him, and I did, and it turns out he was terrified that something had gotten me and that it was out for him next. I felt bad, I did, but then - then he said something was touching him and told me to knock it off and I told him I wasn't touching him and next thing you know -"

Saf bursts into tears.

Zach reaches out a hand in comfort, noting in brief amusement the look of dismay on Andrew's face at her crying.

"It's okay, Saf. Continue when you're ready," Zach tells her, nodding in encouragement.

"N-Next thing you know, Tyler's underwater and _he's dead!"_ Safiya grits out, choking back a sob. "A shark got him, I _know_  it did, you have to believe me!" she cries desperately. "Tyler was killed by a shark, there's no other explanation!"

Zach wordlessly hands her a tissue box while maintaining eye contact with Andrew. He raises a brow, a question, and waits for Andrew to weigh in with his two cents.

"Did you see the shark?" Andrew asks Safiya, and Zach suppresses a sigh. He'd asked that question too, of course. He isn't sure how Andrew will take the answer.

Safiya blows her nose then shakes her head, eyes downcast.

"N-No, I ... I didn't. See the shark."

Zach watches with bated breath as Andrew visibly swallows before leaning forward to face Safiya earnestly.

"Maybe you were still in the mindset of a shark in the water?" he asks delicately, and Zach can see the hesitance, the furrow of his brow as he politely breaks Safiya's heart. "Because of the stunt that you'd pulled? Are you sure he didn't just drown, and your first thought was to assume it was a shark because of his paranoia?"

Zach likes Safiya, they're friends and he feels absolutely devastated for her. He's known her and Tyler for years, and he - he can't believe Tyler's gone. He  _wants_  to believe her - in fact, he  _does_  believe her wholeheartedly, but her lack of proof isn't looking too good for her; a fact that he mourns greatly.

Safiya shakes her head vehemently.

"Tyler was an _amazing_  swimmer, Deputy Ilnyckyj," she says firmly. "There's no way he would've just _drowned_. He was treading water, and then something _pulled him under_  - that's the only explanation for it, Deputy. Human bodies don't move on their own the way Tyler's did unless they're being pulled."

"He could've been caught in an undertow?" Andrew offers, but Safiya's already plowing to shut that idea down.

"He and I were barely a foot apart, how come I didn't get swept away too?" she demands, eyes wide and earnest.

Zach wants to settle her down, to tell her he's on her side, that he believes her, but he needs to know what Andrew will do.

Andrew takes a breath, leaning back in his chair as he tents his fingers.

"Why do you think it was a shark, Ms. Nygaard?" he asks lightly, and Safiya looks slightly taken aback at the question, as if she hadn't expected the fight to be over so soon.

"I ... After Tyler went under, I dove after him to try and find him," she explains, voice still shaky. "It was hard to keep my eyes open because of the salt, and we were pretty far out so the water was a bit dark for me to properly see anything ..."

Andrew quirks an eyebrow at that, but keeps his mouth shut and lets Saf continue.

"But there was enough light that I could see m-movement underneath me," she says, coughing a little after a particularly rough hiccup. "Bubbles, Deputy. I saw bubbles, and fast movements, Tyler was struggling, Deputy, I _know_  it."

"I'm sorry, Ms. Nygaard, but none of this inherently points towards 'shark,'" Andrew says quietly with a shake of his head.

Safiya holds his gaze.

"Red."

"Sorry?"

"I saw _red_ , Deputy. The _water turned red_. It was Tyler's blood, there was _nothing else_  it could have been. Just red, red everywhere, all over the w-water ..." Safiya presses a hand to her mouth, stifling a sob.

Zach and Andrew exchange glances, and Andrew's shoulders sag in resignation.

"You don't know," Saf continues, voice low and hoarse, "the pain, Deputy. Of seeing red, red all around you. Of seeing frantic bubbles heading towards the surface, of seeing fast, jerky movements underneath you, and you know it's someone struggling. Of seeing the water stained _red_. Of seeing _all these things_ , and knowing that they all came from the love of your life. That he's _dead_. And you _watched it happen_."

Zach and Andrew sit in somber silence, not looking at each other nor at Safiya. Zach can tell that Andrew's cracking, can tell that Andrew has no clue what else could have caused Tyler Williams' sudden death.

"Do you have a wife, Deputy?" Safiya asks after a long silence, and Andrew startles. He looks up, blinking, and shakes his head.

"No. A husband. And two kids," he replies, uncertain as to where she's going with this question.

Safiya doesn't bat an eye.

"Imagine you were in my place, and your husband or your kids were in Tyler's," she says lowly, but there's still a strength to her voice that causes a pang even in Zach's chest.

Zach doesn't have a wife or a husband, a boyfriend or a girlfriend. He has a sister and parents, all of whom he loves ever so dearly, and all of whom live on the mainland. He has his friends on the island, he has his dog Bowie, and that's all he needs. He shudders to think about if Bowie were in Tyler's place. Or his mom, his dad, Stephi .... Ned, Keith, or Eugene ... Sara or Ashly ...

"Chief. Do you want to search the beach with me?"

Zach is shaken out of his somber reverie by Andrew's voice and a hand on his arm.

Safiya is still seated, but she looks a bit more pleased than before. She gives Andrew a grateful nod before turning to look at Zach.

Zach nods, too.

"Of course," he says earnestly, then turns to Saf. "Would you mind telling us where on the beach you were?"

 

Andrew trudges alongside Chief Kornfeld in the sand as they scan the beach for any sign of clues. Clues of _what,_ though? Shark activity, maybe? Andrew doesn't know, all he knows is that combing the beach seems productive and might actually be helpful in the long-run.

He doesn't know why he suggested to search the beach - what good will it do, since Tyler Williams died in the water?

Still, maybe ... Maybe it wasn't a shark. Maybe Williams cut himself on some glass on the beach and the pain started acting up while in the water, and it caused him to drown. That'd explain the blood that Ms. Nygaard saw, right?

Andrew runs a hand over his face, sighing as he does so. What is he even _doing?_  What is he even doing _here?_  God, Andrew's not cut out for island life, or for being the Deputy of some backwater island town.

Sure, Two Harbours has some significance of sorts - historically, maybe; Andrew thinks he can recall something about history and this place - but ... Well. Whatever. Steven seems to like it here, if it's any indication. And that's good enough for Andrew any day.

The water washes up against the shore, just barely reaching Andrew's shoes as he peruses the coast, Chief Kornfeld somewhere behind him. Andrew tries to avoid the water, which is funny since he lives on an island, but he's never been a fan. Sure, Andrew can swim, and he isn't bad at it - certainly no Tyler Williams, apparently, but still decent - but the water has always unsettled Andrew and he tends to steer clear of it. There's just something about it ... So calm on the surface and turbulent underneath, it lulls you into a false sense of security and then just swallows you whole.

Andrew's still somewhat convinced that something along those lines happened to poor Williams.

Until he stumbles over a stump in the sand.

The first thing he notices is the smell - it's something rotten and horrid, and it's all over the area he's found himself in. Andrew covers his nose and dares to look down.

Crabs are scurrying around as they feast upon what appears to be a mangled lump of ... _something_ , lying in the sand. There's blood and flesh and definitely a human arm. And a human ... head? And ... a mangled leg. That's ... Also present. How convenient.

Andrew doubles over, resists the urge to throw up, and turns to wave Chief Kornfeld over.

"Hey, Chief!" he shouts, waving an arm. "Found something!"

_Something_  is a bit of an understatement, but ... Well, Chief'll find out soon enough.

The other man hurries towards Andrew, who's hunched over with his hands on his knees.

"God, what the hell -" Chief Kornfeld exclaims at the smell, before following Andrew's line of sight and letting out a small shriek.

It'd be almost comical if it isn't exact how Andrew feels on the inside right about now, too.

"Washed up remains: check," Andrew murmurs over the sound of the Chief's gagging, unable to take his eyes off of the mangled corpse of Tyler Williams.

"There's no way that wasn't a shark," Kornfeld says firmly, voice muffled by the hand over his mouth and nose.

"I agree with you there, Chief."

Andrew straightens up, grimacing, and turns away. He's never been terribly squeamish, but he also isn't a fan of prolonged exposure to dead, massacred bodies.

"We have to tell the Mayor," Kornfeld says decisively, eyeing the direction of the town. "There's no way he can keep the beaches open after something like this."

Andrew nods grimly. Two Harbours is a resort town, as good as they come. Even though it's not too far from the California coast, tourists still like to come to the island for vacation as a getaway.

Independence Day weekend is ever-nearing, and with it, Andrew knows, comes one of the most financially-beneficial times of the year for this small town. They _depend_ on tourists - tourism is a big factor in the financial support of this tiny place.

The Mayor won't like the implication of closed beaches, but it has to be done, especially since Independence Day weekend brings in probably the biggest crowd of the year. It won't do to have people killed by some shark who thinks they're all his for the picking.

"You should do the honors," Andrew suggests lightly. "You know the Mayor better than I do."

Chief Kornfeld fixes him with a withering look.

"The Mayor and I go way back, but even I'm not immune to his inevitable wrath when he finds out we wanna close the beaches on _Independence Day weekend_."

"He's bound to understand why," Andrew protests incredulously. "A guy _died_."

"Okay, okay, he's not _heartless_ ," Zach backtracks hastily. "He knew Tyler, too. Of course he'll be devastated to hear about his death. All I'm sayin' is, I feel for him. He's also looking out for the best interest of the town."

"The best interest of the town is keeping it safe, Chief," Andrew counters. "It shouldn't even be a question."

Zach raises his hands in a show of peace.

"Hey, hey, easy, Andrew. I agree with you! I want the beaches closed and I want our town to be safe. I'm just considering things from the Mayor's perspective."

Andrew notices briefly that Chief Kornfeld had used his first name. Technically, this would be an invitation for Andrew to use Chief Kornfeld's first name right back. But Andrew's still just a Deputy, and it'd feel weird not calling him "Chief." Andrew's kind of weird like that, he guesses, but he just likes being formal with people. Especially since he's the newbie around here, and he wouldn't want to overstep any boundaries.

Andrew knows, already, that he and his family don't yet belong. They're city-folk, right from the heart of Los Angeles, and that's all these islanders will ever see them as.

And ... Perhaps it doesn't help that he's one half of an interracial gay couple.

Of course, times have changed and things are more open now - Ms. Nygaard hadn't even batted an eye when he'd revealed his marital status - but. Still, Andrew can't shake the years of prejudice he'd faced back in the LAPD.

Andrew nods in understanding, turning to look back at Tyler Williams' corpse.

"Let's get this body taken care of, and then we'll go inform the Mayor."

"Okay, Andrew," Chief Kornfeld says, and flashes Andrew a tentative smile.

After a moment, Andrew returns it.

 

Mayor Fulmer sits at his desk, his face buried in his hands. Zach and Andrew regard him warily, standing before him in silence.

"Tyler's gone?" Mayor Fulmer - Ned - asks, voice muffled through his hands. He removes them to reveal a blotchy, red face, and tear-streaked cheeks.

Zach nods solemnly.

"Yeah, Ned. He's gone. I'm sorry, it was a shark."

Ned closes his eyes briefly, and Zach feels for him. Zach knows exactly what Ned is going through, and understands that for Ned, this isn't just the death of a citizen and a friend. For Ned, he can't only be thinking about Tyler; he has to be thinking about the good of the town, about the _people_  of the town. There will be questions thrown at him from all sides - questions of the people's safety, questions of Independence Day weekend, questions of further protection against any other possible sharks.

Zach knows that Ned's duty as Mayor is merely an increase in his feelings over the Tyler situation - a hindrance rather than a help. That more than anything, Ned would want a quiet time to grieve, and instead, he'll have to put it all aside to face the public. And on top of that, he has his wife to worry about, too.

Luckily for Ned, though, he has Zach at his side. Trusty Zach, who's known Ned all his life.

"Practically brothers," they used to tell people, and it wasn't hard to believe. They grew up on this island together, their parents are close. The two of them are, in every manner but blood, related. _Brothers_.

Zach will do anything he can to make this easier for Ned, to lighten his load. After all, what are best friends for?

"A shark," Ned parrots before breathing in deeply. He steeps his fingers, leaning back against his chair. "You're sure?"

Zach and Andrew nod fervently.

"Positive," Andrew answers, and Zach nods again to confirm.

"Promise, Ned."

Ned deflates, clearly not the message he'd wanted to hear, and his voice is small when he says, "But Independence Day."

"Mayor Fulmer, if I may," Andrew cuts in, voice polite but with an edge in his undertone, "the beaches aren't safe. They need to be closed."

Ned sighs, shaking his head slowly, and Zach wants to run over and hug him. To bundle him up in blankets like Ned used to do to him when they were kids and Zach was feeling sad, saying, _"Cuddles make all problems go away."_

Zach wishes he can do that now, wishes there was some way he can ease Ned's ... _burden_ , if you will, but there's nothing he can do but ask Ned to close the beaches. 

"But the tourists," Ned protests weakly, and Zach is the tiniest bit surprised that Ned's showing this side of himself to newbie Andrew. Surely Andrew must think little of Ned, having seen everything so far.

Ned doesn't seem to care, though.

"They need to stay safe," Andrew insists. "If anything happens to them, they won't come back. It's better to have one bad year followed by successful ones than one good year followed by progressively terrible ones. Since money's what you care about and not the actual safety of people."

Zach shakes his head and cuts in before Ned himself can.

"No, Andrew. It isn't just money, Ned's human, he cares about the well-beings of islanders and tourists alike. Of _course_  he does."

"He's not acting like it," Andrew mutters, and Zach admires his spunk, but not now. "His first priority should be keeping people safe, not trying to squeeze out as much tourist revenue as possible."

"Guys," Ned interjects, and he's tired, Zach can tell, but he stands and faces them. "Shark attack possibilities are slim, _very_  slim. You're more likely to get killed by a cow or a dog than a shark. Now, I'm not saying that Tyler _wasn't_ killed by a shark," he adds, "but it was probably a fluke, just an unfortunate occurrence. It ..." Ned runs a hand over his face. "It would be hasty to ... to close the beaches for the action of one single shark. You know? That'd be like shutting down an entire farm because one cow killed someone."

Zach's mouth is a grim line because honestly, he can see where Ned is coming from. So far, out of the many years they've all been living on this island and swimming in the ocean, there's only been _one_  shark attack. _One_.

This ... This _has_  to have been a fluke, right? They've lived here all their lives, they've swam at the beaches all their lives, and yet only _one_  shark attack has occurred.

Zach tells Andrew as much, to keep him up to speed.

Andrew's mouth down-turns, and now _he_  looks conflicted.

Zach feels for Andrew, too. Andrew's a newbie, he's been living on the island for less than a week as of today. He doesn't know anyone, which is tough because everyone on this island knows _everyone_. He doesn't know how they work, he doesn't know their routine, he doesn't know the steady style of island-town life, only the hustle and bustle of the mainland-city.

Zach feels for him, but he's also really proud of him, as well. Andrew's already shown great dedication to a town he doesn't even know, and sure, that's his _job_ , but ...

Zach still can't shake the way he was with Safiya. It was like he's known her for as long as Zach has. The way his face changed in reaction to Saf's story, the way he volunteered to search the beach for whatever reason, the genuine concern he had for Safiya and Tyler, the determination in his eyes when he wanted to help.

And now Andrew's main concern is the town, and _yes, okay,_ it's his _job_ , but Zach can just _tell_  that it's more than that to Andrew, can tell that it's because he genuinely cares.

Zach likes him a lot, and although Andrew's still a bit of a stick in the mud, Zach thinks they're making some pretty good progress with each other. He'll have Andrew calling him "Zach" in no time, screw formalities.

"If ... this is a fluke," Andrew says carefully, "then I guess it can't hurt to merely give out a message of caution to the town. They deserve to know, and Ms. Nygaard has most-likely told people already, anyhow."

Zach nods in agreement.

"That's a good idea. We can't hide this from everyone, nor should we. But! It'd be better to let everyone know what happened and tell them to be careful on the beach. I'm sure if we tell them it was a fluke, they'd understand."

Ned lowers back into his chair, visibly relaxing. Zach still kinda wants to bundle him in a blanket.

"Okay," Ned says, nodding slowly. "Okay. You guys do what you need to do, just ... Thank you."

Zach beams at Ned, hoping his telepathic message of, _"Don't worry Ned, I love you, it'll all end up okay!"_ reaches him.

Andrew dips his head to Ned, then looks to Zach expectantly.

"What now, Chief?" he asks, and Zach feels a rush of warmth towards his Deputy. He gets the feeling that Andrew would follow him anywhere.

Zach shines his badge, just because he can.

"Let's go spread some caution."

 

It isn't until later that evening that Andrew gets home after an afternoon of advising the townspeople to exercise caution in the water.

The coroner had called back at the police station to further confirm the cause of death as a shark attack, only increasing Andrew's worry.

"Welcome home, Andrew," a soft voice says, and Andrew sags in relief. Coming home to Steven after a long day is like a breath of fresh air, and Andrew's mood lifts considerably.

"Hi, Steven. Anything happen while I was away?" Andrew asks, pressing a kiss to his husband's cheek.

Steven grins.

"Kat was super determined to help me out around the house today," he says, taking Andrew's hand as they walk to the dining room. "She helped me unpack the remaining boxes, and she wanted to make dinner, too. Johnny just wanted to play outside," Steven adds, rolling his eyes a little. "He wants school to start so he can play with friends."

"You can take them both out around the town tomorrow and meet people," Andrew suggests, squeezing Steven's hand. They've only been living on the island for about a week, and it's been a hectic one filled with moving and unpacking and getting themselves settled. Some people from the town have visited to introduce themselves and offer housewarming gifts like pie, but nobody really _knows_  them yet. "I'm sure there'll be plenty of kids around for Jonathan to make friends with, too."

Steven lets go of Andrew's hand as he takes a seat at the table. Jonathan and Kat are already seated, having waited patiently for their dad to come home so they could eat with him.

Andrew walks over to each of his kids and presses a kiss to their heads before finally taking a seat himself.

They begin to eat the delicious-looking crockpot lasagna, and Andrew smiles proudly as he takes a bite. When he'd first met Steven, Steven had _hated_  cooking and preparing his own food. He'd made Andrew cook for him all the time, and Andrew never minded; he loved cooking, anyways.

But over the course of their relationship, Andrew had started teaching Steven how to properly cook, and now, here they are: Steven insists on making meals every so often. Andrew's proud of how far he's come.

"Dinner's fantastic, honey," Andrew says, and watches his husband preen as he carefully feeds Kat. Steven knows that Andrew only calls him "honey" in special circumstances, whereas Steven calls Andrew that all the time.

"Dinner's _great_ , papa!" Jonathan exclaims, stretching out the E.

"Johnny, were you good for papa today?" Andrew asks, raising a brow at his son who's seated beside him. Steven's across from him, and Kat's across from Johnny.

Jonathan beams.

"Mhmm! I behaved dad, don't worry!"

Andrew catches Steven mouthing, "He did," to him, and nods approvingly.

"Proud of you, squirt," he says, reaching over to ruffle Johnny's hair. "Kat? How was your day? I hear you helped papa."

"Des," she says as way of saying "yes", and nods seriously. She babbles a little, the only coherent words being, "Hep papa!" Andrew finds it adorable that she doesn't pronounce the L.

"Good job, pumpkin," he replies, giving her a big, toothy grin that she returns, sans-teeth.

"How about you, dad?" Jonathan chirps at the same time Steven sings, "Your turn, Andrew!"

It's uncanny, really, the similarities between Steven and Jonathan. Well, their son looks a lot like Andrew - same hair, same eyes, same shape of face ... Jonathan could almost be a younger version of Andrew, which is exactly why Steven had wanted to adopt him.

However, personality-wise, Jonathan's a carbon copy of Steven: sweet and energetic, bouncy and full of life, but also relatively shy and quiet around new people.

Kat's the opposite - she's more like Steven, looks-wise. She's got beautiful jet-black hair, a baby face (duh), and a tiny, baby smile. She's the perfect little Chinese daughter that Steven has longed for since he himself was a kid.

But boy, is she ever like Andrew, even at two years old: she's quiet and serious and less-inclined to play with Jonathan; she prefers to cuddle up with Steven or Andrew, or attempt to read the books lining the shelves and floors of their home.

"My day was very busy," Andrew replies, more directed towards Jonathan than Steven. He shoots Steven a quick, "I'll explain more later," look before turning back to his son. "I have something important to tell you, okay, Johnny?"

Jonathan stops eating to look up questioningly at his dad, head tilted cutely to the side.

Andrew reaches over to wipe some tomato sauce off his cheek with his thumb, which he then wipes on his napkin.

"Listen carefully, squirt," Andrew says. "I need you to be careful around the water. Stay on the shore, if you can."

Jonathan squints up at his dad.

"Why? I love swimming."

Andrew hesitates. He doesn't know what route to take with this. He's always been a practical man, and if there was an issue he'd tell it to you straight no matter what, but. Johnny's just a kid, a kid who loves to swim, and he doesn't want to drive his son to become terrified of the water.

He can take the truth route: he can tell Jonathan that someone got killed by a shark. But that's too ... _much,_ for a kid at six. At least, he thinks it is. It _seems_ like it is. Johnny's a sensitive kid. Andrew can say that someone got hurt, right? Hurt by a shark. That's less blatantly traumatizing.

He can also take the semi-truth route: maybe he'll tell Jonathan that there's a sea monster who kills people who swim out too far from shore. Jonathan's bound to believe it, but does Andrew _really_  want to be _that_  parent? Andrew isn't even planning on keeping up the whole "Santa" facade with his kids past ten years old.

And then, of course, there's the lie option: Andrew can come up with some blatant lie - water pollution, the beach is just ... closed, someone drowned and he doesn't want Johnny to be next.

He can't, though. Bring himself to lie to his son. He can't.

"Someone ... got hurt, at the beach today, Johnny," Andrew settles on. "By a shark. He was swimming out by the buoy-line and ... a shark hurt him real bad."

Jonathan's eyes widen like saucers and Andrew can see Steven's do the same out of his peripheral vision.

"How bad?" Jonathan asks, and Andrew should've known he would ask this question, he's Jonathan for crying out loud, but he doesn't know how to answer.

Steven, god bless his tact and ability to immediately read situations, steps in.

"He won't be okay for a while, sweetheart," he says, "which is why you need to listen to your dad and be careful out there, okie dokie?"

"Okie dokie," Jonathan parrots through a frown, and Andrew ruffles his hair.

"Good boy," he says. "Now, come on, keep eating."

Kat, bless her soul, has been happily eating without a clue of the solemn undertones this conversation holds.

They continue their meal in relative silence, with the occasional story made by either Johnny or Steven about their day, followed by a comment from Andrew, and sometimes an exclamation from Kat.

"Andrew," Steven says, after dinner's all finished and Jonathan's gone running off to his room with Kat toddling along behind him.

Andrew and Steven clean the table, put away leftovers, and fall into their routine: Steven washes the dishes while Andrew dries and puts them away. Their friends back in LA had told them to use a dishwasher, or a drying rack, but they love the domesticity of doing the cleaning up themselves after a meal together.

"Yeah?" Andrew asks, and presses a kiss to Steven's cheek, just because he can.

"Who died?"

Andrew's hands still for a moment on the plate that he's drying before he continues on.

"A guy named Tyler Williams, around our age. He and his girlfriend were out swimming and the shark just ... attacked. Killed him on the spot, but she got away, thankfully."

Steven shudders.

"That's horrible. I can't imagine what she must be feeling ..."

Andrew shakes his head.

"I know. If it were you or Johnny or Kat ..."

Steven nudges Andrew's shoulder with his own.

"Don't worry, Andrew. I'm not going near the water any time soon, and I'm sure as heck not letting Jonathan outta my sight when he goes in. And Kat's too young to swim on her own, so she'll be okay."

Andrew sighs.

"Chief Kornfeld and I talked to the Mayor today. We wanted to close the beaches to keep the town and the tourists safe, but he insisted on keeping them open. All he cares about is money."

"That's dumb," Steven protests incredulously. "I get that the Fourth of July is a huge thing around here because of all the tourists, but what's gonna happen if the tourists get attacked or killed? They'll probably sue or something, and there goes all the money _and_ the tourists. Mayor Fulmer's being stupid!"

Andrew _loves_  his husband.

"Exactly!" he agrees with vigor. "He said it was just a fluke, probably. He and Chief Kornfeld have been living on the island for all their lives and not once has anyone ever been attacked, let alone killed, by a shark."

Steven tuts, shaking his head as he washes the last of the cutlery.

"Then we should be asking ourselves _why_ a shark's decided to attack all of a sudden."

"Mayor Fulmer won't close the beaches, Stevie. I tried. The best I could do is offer to give a word of caution to the town."

Steven shuts off the faucet before turning to Andrew, who's putting away the final dishes.

"I guess that's not so bad, right? At least the town is aware, so even if the beaches are still open, they can be careful."

Andrew, in a moment of weakness, bends down a little to rest his forehead against Steven's shoulder.

"Water we going to do during Independence Day weekend?" he bemoans.

He feels Steven's laugh vibrate against his forehead as the taller man wraps his arms around Andrew's waist, holding him close.

"I'm shore you'll think of something, Andrew."

"It's just fin-tastic that this kind of thing has to happen on my first day."

"I know, baby, and I'm sure you're pretty tide."

"Mayor Fulmer's quite the son of a beach."

Steven squeezes Andrew's waist gently.

"Hey, he's just trying to look out for all aspects of the town, even if he's got some backwards kind of n- _ocean_."

Andrew love love _loves_  his husband.

"Now come on," Steven says, tugging on Andrew's arm gently to lead him out of the kitchen. "Relax with us for a while, and then you need rest."

And as Andrew hears the distant giggles of his kids, how can he possibly refuse?

 

Zach really hates his inability to refuse. Especially when it comes to Ned. Ned's got a special place in Zach's heart, along with at least five other people.

So now Zach's completely on edge, like, _all_  the time. Ferry-loads of tourists have arrived over the past few days since Tyler's death, and Zach's been going to the beach every single day since then.

He's fucking terrified, of course. And conflicted. Tyler's incident _has_  to have been a fluke, but Zach can't shake the feeling that something's going to happen. He's _paranoid_ , okay? He's lived on this island his whole life and now one of his friends is dead because of some spontaneous shark attack that's never happened before - Zach is _not_  doing so hot.

He sits on the edge of his beach chair, unable to lean back and relax. He's constantly scanning the shoreline for any sign of even the _slightest_  disturbance. Even Bowie can sense his distress from his spot in the sand in front of him.

"Ease up, Zach," Quinta says from somewhere beside him. There's a little group gathered by Zach - his friends Garrett, Quinta, Adam, Sara, and Ashly. And Sara and Ashly's daughter, Paige.

Safiya couldn't bring herself to come.

"I can't," Zach says, voice strained as he shakes his head. "Tyler -"

"- Wouldn't want you to keep stressing about this," Garrett interjects. "It's okay, Zach."

Zach huffs out a sigh.

"I don't want someone else getting hurt," he mutters, hands clenched into fists on his knees.

"They won't," Sara says cheerfully. "You're here."

Zach gives her a weak smile before turning back to scan the beach. He spots Andrew and his family looking for a spot to sit, and stands quickly to wave them over.

Steven waves back cheerfully and tugs Andrew towards Zach and his gang.

Zach likes Steven. He's only met him once, but Steven's so fun and bright and happy from what Zach can tell. They're pretty similar, and it's pretty fucking awesome.

"Hi Steven, hi Andrew, hi guys," Zach greets each member of the Lim-Ilnyckyj family. He doesn't know the little ones' names yet, which is something he needs to fix.

But first, introductions.

"Everyone, this is Deputy Andrew Ilnyckyj, Steven Lim, and, uh, their kids," he finishes lamely, gesturing to each person as he names them.

Andrew rolls his eyes.

"Thanks, Chief. This little guy is Jonathan, and this gal is Katherine. We call her Kat."

"Hi, Chief Kornfeld!" Jonathan exclaims, beaming up at Zach. "You're like a superhero, huh? All police people are! That's what papa says, anyways."

Steven blushes as Andrew shoots him a look.

"I think there's some truth to it," Steven defends himself.

Jonathan clambers onto Zach's lap.

"Ever shoot anybody?"

Zach blinks at the sudden question.

"Uh - no."

"Oh well," Jonathan says shrugging, unperturbed. "You're still a superhero."

Zach's heart feels a little warm at the little guy's praise.

"Okay, okay, off of the Chief, now. You didn't even ask if you could sit on his lap!" Steven reprimands.

"It's really okay, he's awesome," Zach assures Steven, lifting little Jonathan out of his lap.

Steven sets down their mat and helps the kids sit down on it, and Bowie immediately makes a beeline for them.

The kids squeal and pet him, and Steven joins in with the squealing and the petting.

Zach can't help but giggle at that sight paired with Andrew's exasperated sigh.

"Anyhow," Zach continues, gesturing to his group, who are staring in amusement, "introduce yourselves, guys."

Each person pipes up with their name, with Paige shyly murmuring her name behind her hair.

"Nice to meet you all," Andrew and Steven say simultaneously, then look at each other and say, "Jinx," simultaneously - Steven overzealously, and Andrew casually.

Zach wonders how someone so calm and calculated like Andrew married someone so enthusiastic and bouncy like Steven. It's probably a matter of opposites attract and balancing each other out and all that jazz.

Everyone settles in - the kids playing with Bowie, and the adults talking. Paige, two years older than Jonathan, boasts to him about her cool new raft that her moms had gotten her. Zach's friends get to know Steven and Andrew, and vice-versa.

Zach tunes them all out, primarily focused on watching the beach and making sure nothing goes wrong.

Ned's playing frisbee with Bean on the shore. Zach smiles briefly at the adorable scene before moving on.

There's an old woman floating leisurely along near the deeper part of the water. Zach makes a note to keep an eye on her.

A couple of teenagers are splashing around, but Zach isn't too concerned with them.

God, there are so many _people_. It's near impossible to keep track of them all, but he _has_ to.

"Momma, can I take my new raft out to swim?" he hears Paige ask, and he sees Ashly nod out of the corner of his eye.

"Can I come?" Jonathan asks, and both Zach and Andrew turn and start to shake their heads.

"You can't go out into the water, but you can stay on the shore," Andrew says, and Jonathan pouts, but Steven reprimands him, and Zach is momentarily distracted by the fine dynamic of their family.

Paige and Jonathan head out towards the water, and Andrew watches on, tense. Steven looks worried, too.

Ashly and Sara don't appear to be too concerned over Paige, however.

Zach goes back to scouting. Ned's still playing with Bean, the lady is still floating, the teenagers are still splashing, Paige is out on her raft, and Jonathan is sitting on the sand on the shore.

The other kids of the town have seen Paige's raft and have waded out to go and join her.

Zach alternates between each potential target, eyes flitting back and forth between them all. Ned and Bean, old lady, teenagers, Paige and kids.

"Hey, Chief Kornfeld?"

Zach looks up to see Marty or Marvin or something - one of the elders of the town - staring down at him expectantly. He kneels down in front of Zach and begins to speak.

"Some teenagers have been vandalizing my property again," Mark - _Mark_ , it's Mark, Zach remembers now - complains. "It's not good for business to have vandalism all out the front of the store, and I want it to be stopped."

Zach's half-listening, more concerned with trying to peer around Mark's big head to keep an eye on his selected people. Mark's like, right in front of him, completely blocking his vision of the water.

"Chief, I want those teenagers _arrested,_ " Mark continues insistently.

A scream startles Zach into getting up halfway, and he looks over Mark's shoulder to see one of the teenagers - a girl - screaming. He's about to stand up fully until he sees another teenager - a guy - surging up and splashing her.

"Mark, stop bothering the Chief, he's got enough on his plate," Mark's wife Kate calls from somewhere away. Zach's oh-so grateful for it.

"I promise I'll look into it," he assures Mark before the older man leaves, then sits back down, more alert.

The lady floating looks peaceful enough, but something - a shape - is making a beeline towards her, and Andrew notices too because they both tense in anticipation in case they need to move quickly.

The shape looks like the top of a shark head - it's all black and slick-looking and the ripples it causes in the water makes Zach's hair stand on end.

Bubbles form at the surface until something breaks through the water and -

It's Justin Tan wearing a swim cap.

Zach doesn't know whether he should be angry or relieved.

"When am I gonna get to be an islander? Don't I live on Catalina island, too?" he overhears Steven ask, and his friends laugh.

"If you weren't born on the island, you'll _never_  be an islander," Quinta says matter-of-factly, and the others agree.

"You all were born here?" Steven asks, and Zach doesn't have to look to know that his friends are all nodding proudly. He looks anyways, just because he can.

Steven's got Kat and Bowie in his lap, Andrew beside him, and his friends are all gathered around them on the mat and their own blankets.

"Yup," Adam says, popping the P. "Islanders to the core, city-slicker."

"You're acting like you're farmers rather than just island-town people," Steven giggles.

"City slicker," Adam repeats, but with a slow, southern drawl this time, and Steven full-out laughs. Kat hears him and laughs too, purely just because he is.

"Bean!" Ned calls, far over near the shore, and Zach doesn't pay much attention because Bean loves to mess around with Ned and Ariel all the time.

"I wanna be an islander," Steven says, pouting, and Andrew ruffles his hair a little.

"Sorry, Stevie. We're mainlanders through and through."

"Bean?"

"Then again," Sara says, "Andrew's Deputy, so maybe you're a little more of an islander at this point. On the spectrum, yenno?"

_"Bean!"_

"Nah, Andrew'll never be an islander." Justin walks up and sits himself down with the group. Quinta rolls her eyes, but says nothing.

"I've heard that Deputy Ilnyckyj here hates the water," Justin elaborates. "But then again, so does our very own Chief Zach."

Zach snorts.

"Shut up, Justin. Also, your swim cap is stupid."

Justin looks vaguely affronted before he takes it off and heads away from them.

Zach shakes his head. Ever since Zack left for LA, and his break up with Quinta, Justin's been kind of a sourpuss. They're all still buddies, it's just ... He's different. Distant.

"I still wanna be an islander," Steven mumbles, and the group bursts into laughter again.

Zach notices that Ned has stopped calling for Bean and searches for Ned's figure on the shore.

Ned's holding a chewed up frisbee, looking shell-shocked, and that's when everything goes downhill.

"Andrew, I need you _now,_ " Zach barks, just as the kids near Paige's raft erupt into screams.

Zach and Andrew are on their feet immediately, running towards the shore as the water turns red near the children.

"Everyone out!" Zach shouts, waving his arms at the kids and all the other people in the water. Andrew dashes around, helping people out of the water and making sure they get safely to shore.

"Zach, Zach!"

Zach turns around and sees a tear-faced Ned clutching the mangled frisbee.

"Zach," Ned chokes out, reaching out a hand, "Zach, _it took Bean_."

Zach swallows thickly. _God_ , Bean was the best dog in the world, right next to Bowie. Zach and Ned _grew up_  with Bean - Ned had gotten him as a birthday present back when they were just starting high school. Bean was Ned's best friend. 

Zach wants to hold Ned, to hold him and hold him and hold him forever and give him a shoulder to cry on, but.

But there are people who require his assistance, and Ned will have to wait. They both have jobs to do.

"I-I'm sorry, Ned," Zach says, and his voice cracks but he doesn't care. He gives Ned a brief hug, as tight as he can muster, and sends him back farther up the beach with the rest of the public. "They need you," he calls.

Zach helps wrangle some people out of the water, trying to avoid actually going into it if he can. He holds his arms out for some of the kids to grab as they make their way up the shore.

"Jonathan! Jonathan!"

Zach's heart leaps into his throat as he hears Andrew calling for his son. Zach's head whips around, desperate to find the little boy who's already won a place in his heart.

"Over there, by the raft!" Zach calls, pointing to the yellow inflatable raft floating along the waves. Jonathan's head is poked out in the water a few feet away from it, close to the shore. He's crying.

"Fuck," Andrew curses, some yards away. He doesn't think twice before leaping into the water, making a beeline for his son.

Zach watches Andrew swim swiftly, and in no time he's grabbing his son and returning as fast as he can back to shore.

There's a gathering of people watching the scene unfold, with Steven holding Kat at the front of the crowd. Ned and Ariel are next, along with Zach's group of friends.

Andrew emerges onto the shore with a crying Jonathan cradled in his arms, and Zach and Steven rush towards him.

"Is he okay?" they demand in unison, and Andrew gives a weak nod in reply.

"Paige?" Sara's voice calls from amongst the crowd. Ashly's voice follows soon after.

"Paige!"

The two women run towards the front of the crowd, eyes scanning the kids gathered in a group at the side.

"Paige?" Ashly calls, and Jonathan sobs harder at the name.

The murmurs of the crowd cease and all sound falls still at the sight of Paige's yellow, now-bloodstained raft washing up in shreds upon the shore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> did I create a character just to kill her off?  
> the answer is yes.  
> am I sorry? the answer is also yes. she seems like a lovely child.  
> here's the infamous "shark attack at the beach" scene that I very heavily and directly referenced/followed:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XDBLNbJN2-w  
> give it a watch, it's one of my favourite scenes of the film.


	3. Interlude.

 "C'mon, Jonathan."

Jonathan walks behind Paige, his hand running along the side of her squeaky-clean new inflatable raft. He thinks he'd like one of these, and reminds himself to ask his dad and papa about it later.

He's pretty lucky that his dad agreed to let him come with his new friend Paige. He knows dad said not to go out into the water, but this raft is so pretty and cool!

He's gotta stay on the shore though, and that's okay, he _guesses_.

"Can you stay near the shore with me?" he asks, looking up at his tall friend. Paige is older than him - she's seven! - and she's also pretty tall. But it's okay, Jonathan knows he'll grow. Dad says that papa's so tall, maybe Johnny'll get that tallness, too.

Well, here's hoping.

"Maybe," Paige replies without sparing him a glance. "But this thing is better on the water, not on sand."

"Y'don't have to be on _sand,_ " Johnny protests. "You can still be on the water! S'long as you're near me!"

Paige giggles a little.

"Okay, okay."

Jonathan's just really glad to finally have a friend here. Being the new kid has been scary - everyone looks at him and nobody's tried to talk to him. He wishes school would start, so then he can meet people properly.

"Okay, I'm supposed to stay here," Jonathan says forlornly, plopping down on the shore. The tide washes over him and he enjoys the feel of the water ebbing and flowing over his legs and feet. He reaches out and grabs a handful of sand, watching it flow through his fingers, and starts to search for rocks and cool shells.

"Mmkay," Paige replies, paddling out a little ways from him. "I'll be here."

Some kids notice Paige's bright yellow raft and flock towards her, and Jonathan waves at each one that passes by. They're all a mix of ages - some his age, some Paige's, some a little older, and they greet him enthusiastically.

"I'm Jonathan!" he exclaims, standing up quickly.

He meets Alex, and Noah, and Matthew, and Paul, and Michael, and Alexa (he already knows he's going to mix her up with Alex), and Jordyn, and Sadie. He's ecstatic to have new friends.

"Are you all from here?" he asks, and all of them nod yes except for Michael, who says he's just visiting for the summer.

"I'm from LA," he says, and Jonathan's eyes widen.

"Me, too!"

Jonathan and his new friends play for a while; the other kids alternating between sitting with Jonathan and swimming alongside Paige.

Paige, of course, knows everyone already, aside from Michael.

A puppy comes splashing up to Jonathan and he happily pets it.

It's small and brown and fuzzy all over, and it's holding a bright red frisbee in its mouth.

"Want me to throw this?" Jonathan asks, and a shadow falls over him.

"This is Bean," the man says, ruffling the dog's ears.

"I'm Jonathan!" Jonathan chirps, waving up at the new man. "Is this your dog?"

The big man scoops down to pick up Bean, cradling the little dog close.

"Yup, this is my boy. I love him very much."

"I do, too," Jonathan says seriously. "Does Bean know Bowie?" Jonathan only knows one other dog in this town so far, so surely Bean must  _also_ know that same dog. It only makes sense.

The man looks surprised.

"Yes, he does. How do _you_  know Bowie?"

"My dad and papa are sitting with Chief Kornfeld and his friends!"

The big man peers over to where Jonathan is pointing, using his hand to shield his eyes from the sun.

"Your dad's the Deputy, hey?"

Jonathan nods happily.

"Mhmm!"

Bean wriggles out of the big man's arms and jumps into the water with a splash. He begins to bark and wag his tail insistently.

"Bean wants to keep playing," the man says apologetically. "I'm Mayor Fulmer, by the way."

Jonathan gives him a final wave before turning to look at his friends who're all trying to fit onto the raft at once. They all fail, and fall into the water laughing. Except for Paige, who remains victorious on her perch.

He wishes he could join them; how dangerous can the ocean be if all his friends are swimming and they look fine? But Jonathan knows to listen to his dad.

"Bean? BEAN!"

Jonathan hears Mayor Fulmer calling for his doggy, and looks around confusedly. Bean was just here, how's he lost _already?_ Jonathan looks back towards the raft and sees a big black _something_  swimming underneath the water towards it.

Already, he knows it must be the shark his dad warned him about.

"Guys!" he shouts, waving his arms frantically. "Guys, look out!"

The raft overturns and all of Jonathan's new friends look around in surprise; Paige seizes up and shrieks, having been the only one on the raft, as something drags her down. As she surfaces, Jonathan hears her terrified screech, hears her warbled,  _"It hurts! Momma, mommy, help me, it hurts!"_ before she's dragged down again with a sickening slap against the water.

The kids scream as the water turns red, with chunks of ... _stuff_ floating to the surface, and Jonathan breaks the rules.

He swims as best he can, past the horde of children, and towards Paige's raft. _He has to make sure she's okay._

There's a bunch of frantic struggling and bubbles in the water as Jonathan nears the raft, and as he treads, he sees a large, black shape mere feet beneath him. He sees what he can only assume to be the mangled body of Paige, distorted by the ripples of the waves. The shark slithers underneath him, too distracted by Paige's body to give the one above it any thought.

Jonathan does the rational thing and freezes in shock. 

And he doesn't stop crying, even after his dad has cradled him in his arms.


	4. Foreign Aid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> too lazy to proofread all 13k words so if there are any mistakes or typos just bear with me and I'll fix them soon

"It got Bean."

Zach rubs Ned's shoulders as they sit, surrounded by pillows, in the blanket fort that Zach had built for them in Ned's living room.

Andrew and Zach had ordered everyone to clear the beach an hour ago, and nobody had protested.

Zach will never forget the looks of pure anguish on Sara and Ashly's faces once they found out that Paige was dead.

"I know, Ned."

Zach's priority lies with his best friend, for the time being. Andrew's dealing with Jonathan's shock over at the hospital, and Sara and Ashly are most-likely grieving in each other's company, or with others.

Zach plans to visit each of them eventually - Ned first, Sara and Ashly second, Andrew and Jonathan last.

But for right now, Ned is his main concern.

Zach can hear Ariel sniffling as she paces outside the fort, knowing that the boys want to be alone but still wanting to be in the room.

"I-I was playing frisbee with h-him, Zach," Ned says brokenly, head hung low and tears dripping onto his pants.

"I know, I saw you guys."

"Bean and I had finally met little Jonathan," Ned continues, voice strained. "God, Zach, we were _there_. It got Bean and then it got Paige and Jonathan and I were both there and we were both helpless." A pause, filled with sniffling. "Jonathan loved Bean already."

"Who _didn't_  fall in love with Bean instantly?" Zach teases gently, nudging his best friend. "Bean was amazing, we all knew it."

"Best dog in the world," Ned sobs, burying his face in his hands.

Zach throws his arms around Ned and lets him cry into his shoulder. The tears soak his t-shirt and Zach doesn't even give a shit, quite frankly. In fact, Zach holds Ned even tighter.

"We have to close the beaches, Zach," Ned murmurs into his shoulder, but it's too muffled for Zach to comprehend. It sounds kind of like, "Wohaff lola meesak." Kind of.

"Sorry?"

Ned lifts his head a bit, ever-so slightly.

"We have to close the beaches, Zach," he repeats, voice monotone and lifeless. 

Zach nods and holds Ned impossibly closer.

"I agree, buddy. We can't have anything else like this happening ever again."

 

"Chief Kornfeld, care to comment on -"

"Deputy, Deputy, over here, a word, please -"

"Mayor Fulmer! Mayor, what's going to happen to -"

"- The reward -"

"- How is your son -"

"- The beaches, Mayor, what's going to -"

"- _Three thousand dollars_ , you hear -"

"- Is it true he saw the shark with his own eyes -"

"- _Independence Day_ , Mayor, think of Indep -"

And on, and on, and on. The crowd follows Andrew, Chief Kornfeld, and Mayor Fulmer into the meeting room, the incessant noise like a knife in Andrew's brain.

Yesterday, to say the least, had been a disaster. Paige dead, Mayor Fulmer's dog dead, and Jonathan still recovering from the sheer trauma of it all.

Andrew shakes his head. He _knew_  they should've closed the fucking beaches, and he knows the Mayor lost someone yesterday, but Andrew can't help but blame him just the tiniest bit for all of this.

Mayor Fulmer takes a seat at the head of the room, doing a damn good job of ignoring all the yelling directed at him. With him are seated some other important people that Andrew really doesn't care about; the town council. They're all dressed in suits and look very official. The whole thing isn't really Andrew's scene.

"- Three thousand dollars, can you fancy that? Do they even have the cash?"

"If I didn't see that little girl get killed with my own eyes, I'd assume it was just a money-grabbing scheme, they'll sue, most-likely -"

"- D'you think they'll close the beaches -?"

"- Oh, come on! Take a look at Chief's face and tell me he isn't about to tell us the beaches are being closed."

Andrew ignores the multitude of  voices - the group of people behind him are really getting on his last nerve. Paige Rubin-Perez _died_  yesterday, and all they care about is the reward and the fate of the beaches. It's, quite frankly, sickening.

Mayor Fulmer bangs his hand on his podium once, with surprisingly great effect - the commotion ceases.

Andrew and Chief Kornfeld are standing near the front of the crowd of townspeople, and Andrew can tell that his partner is pretty uneasy about the whole thing. They've finally got what they both wanted in the first place: to close the beaches. But ... This whole _reward_  thing is really shedding a different light on the whole situation.

"Okay," Mayor Fulmer says, and he doesn't even need to speak up for his voice to be heard, the room's gone so quiet. "Are there any important questions?"

"Yeah, I got one," one of the council-members says. He's old and crotchety and his voice is arrogant - Andrew already doesn't like him. "S'that three-k bounty on the shark in cash or cheque?"

The council members (save for the Mayor) guffaw and so do the group of townspeople behind Andrew, and it angers him.

"I don't think that's funny," he says loudly, the edge in his voice apparent, and the laughter subsides.

Mayor Fulmer clears his throat.

"Well, Mr. Tilford, I uh, I think that's private business between you and Mrs. Rubin and Mrs. Perez."

Some tittering starts up again and Andrew rolls his eyes. He wants to get out of here, to be with Steven and Kat and _Johnny_ , but it's his job to stay for "important town business." This is hardly worth his time - it's just a bunch of heartless goons cracking jokes at the expense of a little girl. The only people who seem to care about serious matters are the Mayor, Chief Kornfeld, and himself.

"What kind of town is this?" Andrew mutters to the Chief.

Chief Kornfeld gives him a grimace.

"Majority of the people in this room are either old and outdated - mostly just the council members - or business owners," he says quickly, in a low voice. "The beaches closing, for them, means less profit. And the reward is just so ridiculous in their eyes, they -" Chief huffs angrily, "- they think it's impossible for Sara and Ashly to have that much money free to give away. If you ask me, I think it's still a matter of prejudice and homophobia in terms of the older guys, and you didn't hear it from me, but I'm glad those guys are dying off soon anyhow."

Andrew stifles a surprised laugh at that, and claps a hand onto the Chief's shoulder.

"I won't tell anyone. I feel the same. A bunch of old-fashioned, privileged bastards, they are," Andrew murmurs back, and Chief Kornfeld  _beams_.

"You get me," he says happily.

"Wonder what they'd do if they found out I have a husband who's Chinese-Malaysian," Andrew muses. 

Zach snorts.

"'This man is our Deputy?'" he mocks, in typical angry-white-male-in-position-of-power fashion. "'America's truly in decline.'"

"It's because you oldies voted for a problematic president that this country's in decline," Andrew says sardonically, shooting a glare at the suited 50 year-olds. He sighs. "Whatever. Tyler Williams is dead, Paige Rubin-Perez is dead, a dog is dead, a shark's on the loose, and this town needs to sort out its priorities."

Zach nods grimly.

"Poking fun at a situation where a kid died? That's low, even for the oldies in this town."

"Zach, Zach."

Chief Kornfeld looks up at the name.

The chatter is still ongoing around them, and Mayor Fulmer looks exasperated.

"Yes, Ned?" Chief asks, looking up at him expectantly.

Andrew loves to observe the relationship between Mayor Fulmer and Chief Kornfeld. He knows they grew up together on this island, he knows they're best friends and respect each other deeply. It's apparent in the way Mayor Fulmer had turned to the _Chief_  first upon finding out his dog died; he didn't turn to his wife, but to _him_.

Or how Chief always turns at the sound of the Mayor's voice, like an obedient dog; he's always looking to help the Mayor as best he can, no matter what.

Or how the Mayor always seeks Chief's opinion first before making a decision, or how Chief can't do anything without informing the Mayor first.

It's refreshing to see such open friendship like theirs after living in Los Angeles where things were more constrained. It's nice, you know, to see a strong, male friendship like theirs. Back in the LAPD, things weren't as open. Friendly, of course, but formal. And god forbid you get too close to someone, and god forbid Andrew  _ever_  bring up his husband in front of his team.

"Zach, uh, Chief Kornfeld, the plans, would you please -?" Mayor Fulmer's flustered, and he ends his unfinished question with a wave of his hand. "Andrew, you too."

Andrew blinks in surprise. The Mayor's just called him "Andrew." He supposes this is an invitation for him to call the Mayor "Ned" now, but, again, that's ... Well, Andrew's going to have to unlearn all the strict formality that's been ingrained into him.

Chief Kornfeld - Zach, he guesses he should say now - tugs his arm and leads him up to the front of the room.

"Uh, so," Zach begins, loudly, but the chatter hasn't ceased.

Ned goes to raise his hand, but Andrew beats him to it.

"Hey!" Andrew shouts, voice resonating throughout the room. 

Everyone quiets.

"Thanks, Andrew," Zach says.

"No problem, Chief," Andrew replies. Zach frowns briefly before turning to address the big group.

"We're, uh, we're planning on putting on all the extra deputies as soon as possible," Zach says, to which Andrew rolls his eyes a little - he's still better - as Zach continues, "and we're planning on getting shark spotters on the beaches, too. Everywhere we can."

The mention of the beaches starts everyone up again.

" _Will you be closing the beaches?"_ someone from the front of the crowd asks, and Andrew scoffs. He doesn't even try to hide it.

Zach hesitates.

"Yes. We are."

The crowd's in uproar at that, middle-aged people protesting and teenagers complaining. Andrew is still in awe at the blatant disregard for self-preservation or empathy these people have.

"We're also planning to bring in an expert from the oceanographic institute on the mainland," he butts in loudly, but it goes relatively unheard - drowned out by the gratuitous exclamations of disappointment and disagreement.

It's true, though. Terminal Island's got a non-profit institute, and Zach had contacted them this morning to ask about a shark expert. Of course, there's also the CIMI over by Avalon, at Toyon Bay, and there's even the WMSC closer to the town, but WMSC is environmental, and CIMI is more oriented for kiddos. Sure, they got experts to _teach_  the kiddos, but Andrew knows that kids need all the supervision they can get. He wouldn't wanna steal someone away to, like, save their town from the shark that plagues their waters or anything. No, the SCMI (which is affiliated with those other two anyways) seemed the better bet. The bigger fish in the pond, if you will.

Ned bangs another hand against his podium.

"The beaches will remain closed until further notice," he says firmly, and his voice wavers when he adds, "I can't have more people or animals lost."

The crowd falls into a guilty silence after that remark, seemingly-having forgotten about the death of the Mayor's beloved dog.

"The beaches will remain closed until further notice," Ned repeats. "Probably until Independence Day weekend, at the most."

"I definitely did not agree to that," Zach mutters to Andrew, and Ned pretends not to hear.

"Until Independence Day weekend?" someone parrots. "That feels like eight years!"

The crowd returns to its usual state of discord and discontent. Andrew doesn't know why he's still surprised at this point.

Ned and Andrew and Zach stand in uncomfortable silence, all of them at a loss for words. They hadn't anticipated _this_ much of a negative response.

As the crowd shouts simultaneously, Andrew and Zach share a look, and Andrew knows they're both thinking the same thing: _Where'd all the empathy go?_

"Mayor, Mayor, my surf-rental shop -"

"Mayor Fulmer, you _cannot_  close the beaches, I have family coming all the way from _Oklahoma_  -"

"Chief Kornfeld you can't be serious -"

"There probably wasn't even a real shark, why is everyone being so hasty?"

"Chief, the weather's, like, perfect for going to the beach, like, don't you understand -"

"My business won't flourish, Mayor, I have a seaside cafe, this is preposterous -!"

"Deputy, tell Chief Kornfeld that -"

"- No Deputy, you tell the  _Mayor_  that -"

" - the beaches can't be -"

"Chief!"

"Mayor!"

" - Deputy, _please_  -"

"You can't close the beaches, just take some precautions -"

"- So are we just going to ignore the reward, or -?"

"- The reward's probably fake, now _Chief Kornfeld, please_  -"

"No, Mayor, _listen_  -!"

Oh, _god_.  Andrew winces, as does everyone else in the room, at the sudden, sharp noise. It's the most unpleasant sound, even more of a knife stabbing into Andrew's brain. It's a sound that makes his skin crawl, that makes his head recede back into his shoulders, that grates upon his ears. It sound like _nails on a fucking chalkboard._

All shouting ceases as people turn frantically to find the source of the horrid noise. It's coming from the very back of the room, hidden behind the crowd of standing townspeople.

The crowd parts down the middle like the Red Sea and stares at the man who's dragging his nails insistently across the chalkboard that resides back there, really _digging_  his nails into the surface and - oh, it's _actual nails on a chalkboard_  that Andrew and everyone else is hearing. Oh joy.

Andrew blinks before squinting at the man, who's sitting languidly on his chair. All the townspeople present had been standing, but he'd been sitting, unseen by everyone else obstructing him from view.

Andrew's never met this guy before, and he looks a bit older than Andrew, but he also looks kind of like a mess. Hair bedraggled and in disarray, a short beard, and a lazy smile. He's got a fishing hat in bucket-style settled on his back, the strap around his neck, and he's wearing a navy jacket with a red-and-black plaid button-up underneath. His pants are grey - they actually might just be very worn jeans, now that Andrew thinks of it.

All-in-all, outfit-wise he isn't bad, but face-wise, he looks kind of scruffy.

Andrew doesn't know what to make of him.

"Look. You all know me and what I do for a living," the man says casually, still leaning languidly back against his chair.

It's kind of a lie, as Andrew has no idea who this guy is. His voice is lilting and soft, but it carries throughout the room. It's very similar to how a shrug would sound, if a shrug were a voice.

"I'll catch this bird for you," he continues, "but it won't be easy, you know. S'not like fishing for some bluegills or li'l baby tommy-cods in a pond, obviously." The man becomes more alert, leaning forward so that his elbows rest on his knees as he scans the crowd, making eye contact with almost everyone. "This thing we're talking about is a being that can swallow you whole - gets ya into its big ol' mouth, grinds you to a pulp, and, well, down ya go," he says, spreading his hands out and shrugging a little. "We gotta get rid of this thing quick, so the tourists can come back and all of you can get your _precious money_  that keeps all your businesses alive."

Andrew can't help but huff out a laugh at that. The guy's got spunk, Andrew's kinda warming up to him.

The man runs a hand through his hair, mussing it up even more.

"But this job isn't gonna be easy. I damn well value my pretty face better than three grand, Chief."

He shoots Zach a quick wink which Zach rolls his eyes at. 

"Here pal, I'll tell you what," the man continues, small smile growing. "I'll _find_  him for three, but I'll catch him and kill him for ten."

Zach glances up at Ned and they trade a look - intrigued, but hesitant, and definitely reluctant. Andrew can kind of see why they wouldn't accept this guy's offer right off the bat. He's kind of sketch.

"Now, it looks like you all have some mind-making-up to do," the scruffy guy remarks, and Andrew still finds it a wonder how calm and quiet and _lilty_  he is. "Stay alive and ante up, or Mr. Scrooge your way through it: play her cheap and be on welfare the whole winter?"

Zach's mouth turns down a little, and Andrew places a hand on his arm, squeezing it gently.

Zach shoots him a smile.

"And no, I know what you're gonna say, Mayor Ned," the guy says suddenly, pointing a finger at the Mayor. "No, I don't want any mates, no volunteers; there are _way_  too many goddamn captains on this island. No way buddy - just ten thousand dollars, for me, by myself. And for that," he shrugs lightly, "well Mayor, you've got yourself the head, the tail, _the whole dang thing_."

The crowd shifts uneasily, everyone sharing looks amongst each other and communicating with their eyes.

Why couldn't they have done that before, to save Andrew the massive migraine?

But in all honesty, Andrew kind of trusts this guy - he seems like someone who knows what he's doing, and he has no qualms that this guy could kill the shark in no time. He'd like the shark to be gone as soon as possible, and Andrew knows he's not alone in that sentiment. It's just, everyone shares that sentiment for differing reasons.

The silence stretches on until Ned finally speaks up.

"Thank you very much for the offer, Mr. Madej," Ned says quietly. "We'll certainly, uh, take it under advisement."

The man - Mr. Madej, apparently - is seemingly satisfied with that answer and he stands, his metallic chair squeaking as it scrapes loudly against the ground.

"Mr. Mayor, Deputy, Chief," he addresses, nodding to each of the three of them respectively. There is a pause as he scans the crowd one final time. "Ladies and gentlemen," he adds sardonically, and saunters out of the shocked and speechless room.

 

The docks are loud and crowded. Normally this isn't an odd occurrence, but fishermen-upon-fishermen from the entire town are packed like sardines among the docks, desperate to get their vessels out so they can hunt the shark and earn the three thousand dollar reward.

"What a load of chumps, hey?"

Zach cracks a smile and nudges Keith with his elbow.

"Quiet, you. If they hear you say that, they'll riot."

"What're they gonna do, stop watching the news?" Keith scoffs, rolling his eyes. His mic hangs carelessly in his hand as the other hand fiddles with his blazer sleeve. He looks spiffy and presentable, but then again, that's kind of his job as a news anchor.

"I've missed you, buddy," Zach admits, shooting Keith a soft smile. Keith lives on the mainland for his job, over in Santa Monica. He'd used to live on the island with Zach and Ned and Eugene - all four of them had grown up together. Except now Keith and Eugene live on the mainland for their jobs, while Ned and Zach remain on the island for theirs.

At least those two come back to visit the island every year for the winter holidays, and various times throughout the year.

Keith grins widely and ruffles Zach's short hair affectionately.

"I've missed you too, Korndiddy. It's been way too long."

The two watch as the crowd of overeager, amateur shark hunters pile into their boats, gather their gear, gloat, what have you.

"Chumps," Keith repeats as he watches them fight over some shark chum. "This can't be safe."

"It really isn't," Zach mutters, before shaking his head and taking a step back. "Your cameraman is glaring at me, so I guess you should do your thing."

Keith wraps an arm around Zach's shoulders and gives him a squeeze before shooing him away.

Zach happily stands beside the cameraman - he always loves watching Keith work - who then gives the signal for Keith to start.

"Keith Habersberger here in Two Harbors, Catalina Island. This small island resort town is gearing up to hunt a shark that's been terrorizing its beaches this week - already, there are three dead at the jaws of this monster.

"A steady bounty has been put on this shark's head by the parents of one of the victims; a grand total of three thousand dollars. The beaches are closed until further notice, but expect to be open once more in time for Independence Day. And by the looks of these fishermen," Keith adds with false bravado, "I can bet that they'll be open much sooner." He shoots a bright smile to the camera before it cuts, and the cameraman goes off to get some shots and interviews with the fishermen.

Zach grins.

"Thought they were chumps," he teases, and Keith rolls his eyes.

"Shut up, Kornfeld, it was a stretch of the truth, no bigs."

"Keith?"

Zach and Keith turn to see Ned walking towards them, eyes wide.

"Ned!" Keith exclaims, running towards him with open arms.

Ned embraces the taller man gladly, holding him tight.

"I wasn't sure when you were supposed to get here," Ned says, voice muffled by Keith's shoulder.

"Ned, I heard about Bean," Keith says, pulling away but keeping his hands on Ned's shoulders. "I'm so, so sorry. Bean was everything to us. To you."

Ned swallows a little and nods.

"I know. That stupid shark had the audacity to take my Bean."

Keith squeezes Ned's shoulders.

"Someone's gonna find that shark and give 'em some what-for, don't you worry, Ned."

Zach smiles at the sight; he wishes Eugene were here to complete the whole thing. Well, technically, they can call Eugene up at any time like they did with Keith - Eugene's a marine biologist at Scripps, so really, he'd be kind of helpful in this situation - but he's currently heading a summer camp program over at CIMI, at Toyon Bay. He's close to home, but the kiddos need him there.

A commotion causes Zach to turn, and he groans.

There are about five fishermen in a dingy little fishing boat, and from the looks of it, there's about to be a lot more boarding it.

His Deputy is attempting to deal with the problem, and Zach notices that he's got his towel wrapped around his neck again. He wonders if it's some weird fashion statement, since Andrew has that thing on a lot.

"Hey! How many men are you planning on putting aboard that boat?" Andrew shouts, and Zach heads over to him.

"I'll catch up with you guys later," he calls to his best friends as he goes, then stops beside Andrew and claps a hand on his shoulder.

"Eight," one of the fishermen calls back, and Zach balks.

"That's not safe!" he shouts, but the fishermen laugh him off and continue to haul their supplies and each other onto the fishing boat.

"For god's sake," Andrew grumbles, and Zach turns to see more chaos. 

"No, stop - lady, you have to move out first so he can get out!" Zach runs a hand through his hair and sprints down the dock, Andrew following behind.

"You can't raise sail, or you're gonna luff it."

Zach skids to a halt to see that someone's already handled the problem for him, and takes a second to lean on a post for safety and something to cling to. He hates being this close to the water.

The guy's about Zach's age - so, that is to say, about the same age as all of his friends, too. He's wearing a backwards baseball cap on his head, his hair peeking out in little tufts underneath. He's got dark jeans and some light-wash denim jacket, and a grey sweater underneath.

He looks ... Not like a fisherman. He looks too _cool_  to be a fisherman, which isn't a super offensive thing to say since all fishermen just look ... A certain way.

"Do you have a paddle?" he asks the lady he's trying to advise, and she nods. "Great, so scull out of here."

"Hey, thanks," Zach says, before Andrew tugs him away to deal with more chaos.

"Woah - officer, officer, wait!"

Zach can't turn to address the man as Andrew's got a vice-like grip on his arm, leading him towards a group of teenagers in a rowboat.

"Kids, out of the water," Andrew demands, and they merely stick their tongues out at him.

"Seriously, it's not safe for you guys," Zach implores. "You really think you guys can take on a shark in that rowboat?"

"Officer, excuse me -"

"Shit, Zach, those fishermen have at _least_  ten people on that boat,  _plus_  all their supplies."

"Officers -"

"Sir, help me get those guys out of that boat, will you?" Zach asks the man before spotting an old-timer with a stick of dynamite. "Goddammit - hey, what are you doing with that?!"

"Uh, sure," the man stammers, and turns to the offending party. 

Zach keeps an eye on the man as he deals with the dynamite-holder, eventually confiscating it.

"Fellas, uh, gentlemen! The officer asked me to tell you guys that you're overloading that boat."

They merely laugh him off and continue trying to load it more.

"Ha ha ha, they're all gonna die," the man replies sardonically, and Zach snorts a laugh from his spot on the dock. He shakes his head and sees Andrew approaching, looking frazzled.

"Chief, these are your people, go and talk some sense into them."

Zach scoffs.

"These aren't my people, these guys are from everywhere! Talk of the reward has spread remarkably fast, and now Keith's news report is going to amass even more interest. Take a look at the license plates in the parking lot, Ilnyckyj! We've even got people from _Rhode Island_  who came in yesterday, I'm dying here!"

"Imagine how I feel, nobody in this damn town even takes me seriously when all I'm trying to do is look out for their safety!" Andrew retorts, shooting a glare in the general direction of the crowd of shark hunters.

Zach softens, placing a hand on his friend's arm.

"I'm sorry, Andrew. I wish people took you seriously, you're real smart and you care about everyone."

Zach is delighted to note that Andrew blushes a little, but he masks it with a nonchalant shrug.

"Getting soft on me, Chief?" he says, raising a brow. "It's a wonder that I'm the Deputy here, and not you."

"Buddy, I don't get it either," Zach sighs with a shake of his head and a shrug.

"Speaking of Deputies, where's all the help we're supposed to get?" Andrew asks, bringing them both back to reality; a reality of overloaded fishing boats, overzealous amateurs, and the overwhelming smell of chum.

"That's not until the Fourth of July. Until then, it's just you and me," Zach says, and adds, "Yay," monotonously.

"Lovely," Andrew grumbles.

"Hi, excuse me?"

Zach and Andrew turn to see the man from before approaching them. He's hefting a bulky bag over his shoulder and he looks irritated, and impatient.

Well, he's not the only one. He's not fucking special.

"Hi," Zach replies shortly.

"You know those nine dudes over at the fantail launch?"

"Yeah?"

"None of them are gonna make it out of this harbor alive, dude."

Andrew groans, scrubbing a hand over his face.

"See? That's what I'm talking about, you know the _first names_  of those guys, they're _f_ _rom here_ , go talk to those idiots -"

"They wouldn't listen to me anyways, Andrew, come on -"

"You could at least try!"

"Seems like everyone's having a real swell day today," the man pipes up, and receives a glare from both Zach and his partner.

"You can say that again," Zach grumbles at the same time Andrew snarks, "Tell me about it."

"Do either of you know where I can find Chief Kornfeld?"

Zach eyes him suspiciously.

"Who're you?"

The man sticks a hand out and beams at Zach, and the Chief is taken aback by this guy's suddenly-sunny disposition.

"I'm Ryan Bergara, uh, I'm from the Ocean Studies Institute. Long Beach State, specifically."

"Oh, shit," Zach says as he shakes his hand amicably. "You're the guy we called!"

Ryan shakes Andrew's hand too before turning back to Zach.

"Here I am, in the flesh. Now, as for the Chief?"

"Oh, ha, that's me!" Zach exclaims, giving a little wave. He's a little frazzled, but he's sure nobody can blame him what with the migraine-waiting-to-happen out on the docks.

"Very glad to meet you, Chief Kornfeld," Ryan replies, and Zach shakes his head.

"Wow, you sound like Andrew," he says in mock-disapproval. "Nah, call me Zach. Zach Kornfeld. And Andrew Ilnyckyj here is my Deputy," he adds, gesturing to his partner.

"Do you prefer your first name, too?" Ryan teases, raising a brow.

Andrew attempts to look grumpy, but Zach can tell that Ryan's already getting to him.

"Well, I guess Andrew's the way to go," he says, shrugging. "Now, come on, we've got a lot to talk about."

As Zach and Andrew walk a little ways ahead of Ryan to the police cruiser they took to get here, Zach leans over and whispers, "How come you never call me, 'Zach'?"

It's something that's been nagging at him for a bit, especially after Zach had called him "Andrew" for the first time. He was _sure_  that was an obvious-enough invitation for Andrew to start calling him by his first name, too.

Andrew snorts a laugh.

"There are a few reasons, but honestly? I didn't know your first name until Ned said it and you reacted."

 

"This is him, huh?"

Zach, Andrew, and Ryan all crowd around the corpse - or, what's left of the corpse - of Tyler Williams, the shark's first victim.

After taking Ryan to the police station and briefing him on all of the shark incidents over the week, Ryan had insisted on seeing the body of the first victim, so off to the morgue they went.

"Yeah," Zach replies, voice a little strained. It's hard seeing his friend again, especially like this. With all the chaos in the town right now, he'd almost forgotten, but standing here is a grim reminder of what's out in those waters and what Zach has lost because of it.

"I'm going to do a postmortem, although I'm not sure it'll be of any use to you since we already know it's a shark," Ryan says a little sheepishly. "But I'm sure this will give me some insight as to how big the shark in question is, and possibly even what _kind_."

Zach and Andrew stand back as Ryan dons some surgical gloves and speaks calmly into his recorder, carefully examining the corpse.

"The height and weight of the victim can only be estimated from the partial remains. The torso has been severed in mid-thorax; there are no major organs remaining ... Uh, right arm has been severed above the elbow with massive tissue loss in the upper musculature, hmm ... Partially denuded bone remaining ..."

Ryan hums thoughtfully and turns to Zach.

"You said the Mayor wanted to brush this off as a boat accident at first?"

Zach nods.

"Yeah, so that it wouldn't upset the town."

Ryan snorts a laugh.

"This was no boat accident, it never could'a been." He goes back to studiously examining the corpse, then pauses. "Did you guys notify the Coast Guard about this?"

Andrew pipes up bitterly, "No, it was only local jurisdiction."

Ryan nods thoughtfully before continuing on with his postmortem. Zach finds it pretty fascinating to watch this guy work.

"The left arm, head, shoulders, sternum, and portions of the ribcage are intact ..." Ryan holds up the left arm, and Zach tries not to recoil at the sight.

"Careful, that's my friend," he says, and Andrew hits him on the arm.

"No offense Zach, but there's not much I can do to him now that'll hurt him," Ryan quips. "Now, listen. This indicates the non-frenzied feeding of a large squalus - potentially Longimanus, or Isurus glauca," he explains.

Zach has no idea what any of that means.

"Ah, the enormous amount of tissue loss prevents any detailed analysis," Ryan says regretfully, "however, the attacking squalus must be considerably larger than any other normal squalus found in these waters. Didn't you get on a boat and check out these waters?" he asks both of them accusingly.

Zach looks at the ground sheepishly.

"No, I, uh ... I'm scared of the ocean, it's kind of my biggest fear."

Ryan balks and puts down Tyler's arm.

"What? You live on an _island_ , how can you _possibly_  be scared of -"

"I'm a _cat person_ , okay? Cats aren't fans of the water!" Zach exclaims defensively.

"I'm with you on that one," Andrew agrees, and Ryan looks even more incredulous.

"You too? Why would you _move_  here if you're scared of the -"

"I got _transferred_ , dumbass, and my husband loves it here, so that's that."

Ryan closes his mouth but still stares skeptically at the both of them.

"And you two are the law enforcement  _how?"_

Andrew scoffs.

"Most of the stuff we deal with happens _on land_  rather than in the water, Bergara."

"Fair enough," Ryan concedes. "Well, I'm sure you two are loving this shark problem, then."

"Look, I can swim, and I'm good at it, but I'd prefer not to ever have to use my skills," Andrew elaborates, crossing his arms to indicate that's all that they're gonna get from him.

Ryan looks to Zach expectantly, and he grins.

"I'm not a good swimmer, and I have no desire to fix that."

Ryan heaves a deep sigh.

"Unbelievable." He gives the corpse one last once-over and turns to Zach and Andrew, clapping his gloved hands together. "Well, anyways," he continues, "this was no boat, but you all know that. Not a coral reef, not a serial killer trying to frame a shark -"

"Could that even happen?" Zach wonders aloud, and Ryan shrugs.

"I know my fair share about serial killers, but never heard of one that pretends to be a shark. Anyways, my _point_  is," he says emphatically, "yes, this was a shark, but this shark is unlike any other that can be found in these waters. It's definitely bigger than normal sharks around here, if these remains are anything to go by."

Zach's mouth downturns and he steps forward, if a little shakily. But nobody has to know.

"So what does that mean?"

"It _means_ , you better hope one of those bozos out there catches that thing, or Two Harbors ain't gonna be known for its beaches any longer," Ryan says grimly.

Andrew's walkie-talkie crackles to life.

"Hey, Ilnyckyj? If you and the Chief aren't busy, come over to the docks. Some of the fishermen's boats have capsized from their weight."

Andrew's eyes widen and he grabs the talkie, asking, "How far from shore? Are they in danger?"

Tom, their secretary (who's really just a teen with a need for a summer job), replies, "No, sir. They're still at the docks."

Andrew lets the talkie deliberately slip from his hand, and it drops unceremoniously onto the floor with a wince-inducing _crack_.

Ryan's mouth settles itself into a line.

Zach scrubs a hand over his face and sighs.

"Well, we're screwed."

 

Andrew can't explain the elation he feels when, a day later, he arrives at the docks to find an enormous shark lying on the wood.

"Holy shit," he and Zach say at the same time, and Andrew looks around.

"Who caught this thing?"

Mike Carrier steps forward, his jacket sleeves pushed up to the elbows and his jeans covered in grime and some blood.

"Ben and I did, just now. We gathered a small fishing crew of people I'd never met before, people that I'd literally talked to like, once, and this sucker just ... Showed up. Took the bait."

Andrew nods in appraisal, raising a brow at the large shark. It's ... Well, it's  _huge._ Its gaping maw is splattered with its own blood, and the rows of teeth within are enough to set Andrew on edge. It's taller than all the men on deck, without a doubt, and Andrew shivers when he thinks about what could've happened if he'd met that thing in the water. Its dorsal fin alone is the size of his head!

"Where's your crew?" Andrew asks, looking around.

"Over on the beach, having a celebratory drink," Mike replies, shrugging as he points in their general direction. "Ben's here, though." He slings an arm around Ben Coleman, who beams.

"No more shark problem Chief, Deputy. We got it covered."

Ryan hums thoughtfully from between Andrew and Zach, and Andrew can see his lips pursed in dissatisfaction. Probably because his job has ended so soon, and he didn't even get to do anything besides an overly-thorough postmortem where he ended up basically telling them things they already knew.

Andrew knows the feeling.

"Ned, Ned, you won't believe it!"

Andrew hears Zach calling to the Mayor, enthusiastically waving him over.

Ned's eyes widen as he takes in the shark and immediately turns to Keith, who'd come to the pier with him.

"Could you do a story on this really quick?" Ned asks, but Andrew think it's more of a beseech. Ned's eyes are round and imploring, and he even throws in a little angelic grin.

"My camera guy isn't even here," Keith says, frowning, but nods. "We'll have to do it later, once things have died down. As long as I get an interview with Mike and Ben, I should be okay." Keith immediately goes to phone his camera guy, presumably to get him here as fast as possible.

Among the yelling and chaos - the journalists trying to get quotes for the paper, the photographer trying to get a picture for the paper, Ned and Zach trying to talk to the fishermen involved to ask about the shark, what have you - Andrew notices Ryan inspecting the shark thoughtfully, trailing a finger along its side and observing its jaw. He pulls out some measuring tape and holds it up to the shark's mouth, his own a deep frown. He measures the length, the width, and the length again. Then the width just to be sure. Andrew has no clue why it's relevant at all, or even what Ryan's  _doing,_ but before he knows it, he's being swept away again by people and press alike.

"Hey, man, young fella, will you  _please_ get out of the picture?" a photographer - Andrew hasn't really learned the names of the newspaper workers yet - shouts, and he shuffles out of the way before realizing the shout is directed at Ryan.

If looks could kill, Ryan's glare would be way deadlier than that shark's gaping maw, but Ryan reluctantly grabs his bag and stuffs his measuring tape inside before jerking away towards Andrew.

"Chief, Deputy, Mayor, can we get you three in this as well?" the photographer asks, and Andrew rolls his eyes, pushing past Ryan to stand with the fishermen.

He and Zach attempt to avoid the mouth of the shark - even dead, it's terrifying to think about how many people have passed through those teeth - while Ned holds up one of the "BEACH CLOSED" signs as per the photographer's request, right beside Mike and Ben.

"Did we get it?" Andrew asks through his smile, and the photographer gives a thumbs up, causing the crowd to disperse.

"I wonder what kind of shark it is," Ben muses. "Mike and I have never caught an actual shark before."

"Maybe a Mako," a different fishermen suggests.

"A Mako is plausible," Mike says, calculated. "But I think Mako's are smaller."

"That thing's a tiger shark."

Mike and Ben turn in unison to look at Ryan.

"What?"

"A tiger shark," Ryan repeats, and Andrew cocks his head.

"That doesn't matter, does it?" he asks, and Ryan goes into some long explanation about the bite radius of the tiger shark and something about the victims not matching up. It's kind of interesting, or it would be if Andrew actually understood, but Mike cuts him off anyways.

"What's this bite radius crap?" he asks, frowning. "This shark's got a big mouth, just look at it!"

Ryan sighs a long-suffering sigh.

"All I'm trying to say is -"

"Why don't you just stick your head in there and see if it's a man-eater then, huh?" Mike deadpans, and Ben nods in agreement.

"I'm not saying it's  _not_ the shark," Ryan explains, irritated, "all I'm saying is it  _may_ not be the shark, okay? Just a difference in semantics, but damn, I don't wanna get beat up over it." He raises his hands in mock-surrender.

"Ryan, Ryan -"

Andrew and Ryan both turn to see Zach jogging toward them, Ned in tow.

"Ryan, I just forgot, I haven't introduced you guys," Zach says a little breathlessly. "Ned, this is Ryan Bergara, from the oceanographic institute. Ryan, this is Ned Fulmer, our Mayor."

Ryan smiles and shakes Ned's hand.

"Pleased to meet you, Mayor Fulmer."

"Call me Ned," Ned says in reply. "Pleased to meet you too, Ryan."

"Hey, Mayor, take a look at this beauty!" a fisherman calls, and Ned turns to greet them.

"Perfect. Andrew, Zach, I need to talk to you guys," Ryan says, and leads them a little ways down the dock.

"What's this about?" Zach asks Andrew, but he shakes his head. He's really got no clue what's on Ryan's mind at all.

Ryan stops at near the bait and tackle shop and heaves a deep sigh.

"Andrew, Zach, there ... are  _all_ kinds of sharks in the waters, you know? They've all got different breeds, like dogs. Hammerheads, bulls, makos, tiger sharks, white tips ... The point is, the chance that these - these  _bozos_ got the right one -"

Zach interrupts with a scoff.

"C'mon, Ryan, you're telling me there's other sharks like this bad boy in these waters?" he asks, pointing towards the shark in question. "That guy's  _huge_ _!"_

"Zach," Ryan insists, "it's one hundred to one.  _One hundred to one,_ don't you see? I - I'm not saying that that  _isn't_ the shark -"

"Never tell me the odds, Bergara. Now you've got me all doubtful," Andrew mutters, pulling his uniform jacket tighter around him.

Ryan shakes his head, taking off his baseball cap and running a hand through his hair.

"I - I'm just saying, I mean, it probably is the same shark! It's a tiger shark: a man-eater, uh, not exactly rare to southern California waters but still a man-eater! It's said to be responsible for a large percentage of fatal shark bite incidents," Ryan says, and Andrew's  _so confused,_ does Ryan want to convince them that the shark is the right one or not?

"But?" Andrew asks, because there's always a but.

Ryan frowns.

" _But,_ " he continues, the only thing off-kilter is that the bite radius of that tiger shark is different than the wounds I saw on Tyler Williams."

Andrew buries his face in his hands, and Zach throws his head back and groans, "We're  _fucked all over again."_

Ryan looks about one millisecond from killing the both of them like Mike and Ben did that shark.

"I just, I want to be sure," he insists. "You guys want to be sure. We _all_ want to be sure. Okay? It very well could be the shark, and if it is, then great! But I don't want this town to get its hopes up only to have them fall. Now," he says firmly, and Andrew thinks he'd make a really good leader, "what I want to do is very simple. This digestive system of this shark is very, _very_ slow. Let's cut it open, since whatever its eaten in the last twenty-fours hours is bound to still be in there. And _then_ we'll be sure."

"Just, not right here, this isn't the time to be performing an autopsy on a fish!"

Andrew, Zach, and Ryan turn to see that Ned has joined the group.

"How long have you been listening?" Zach asks, startled.

"Since 'one hundred to one,'" Ned replies, and he looks so unsettled, Andrew wants to put a hand on his arm and tell him to  _chill._ "You guys are  _not_  going to cut that thing open and have all of its guts spill out across the dock."

"With all due respect, Mr. Mayor sir, it may be the only way to confirm it," Andrew says nonchalantly, and shrugs. "Ocean Man's probably got a point."

Zach starts humming as Ned shakes his head.

"No, I already said -"

"Chief Kornfeld?"

It feels like the whole dock quiets as someone approaches the four of them, which it doesn't, but it feels like it.

"Yeah?" Zach asks, stepping forward. "That's me."

He immediately receives a slap to the face. Ryan, Andrew, and Ned all wince at the sickening noise.

"Ow!" Zach cries, holding his face, but the newcomer makes no other move, shows no sign of remorse.

"I'm Miggs, I'm Ashly's sibling," the person says. Their long hair blows in the wind, back from their face, showcasing the tears tracking down their cheeks. "I'm from NYC, but I flew here when I heard about the death of my niece. Are you the Deputy?" Miggs asks, pointing to Andrew, who nods. Miggs glares daggers at the both of them. "I heard that a man died here last week and _neither of_ _you closed the beach._  Both of you knew about the shark, you knew the waters were dangerous, you knew all of that, and you _still_ let people go swimming. And now my niece is dead. I just wanted you both to know that."

The crowd watches in silence as Miggs leaves, and Zach looks more than stricken. Andrew feels those words like a punch to the gut.

"I'm sorry, Zach, Andrew," Ned murmurs quietly. "They don't know the whole story, they're wrong -"

Zach and Andrew shake their heads.

"No," Andrew says bitterly. "They're right."

 

Zach feels honoured and very comforted that Andrew invited him over for dinner. In all honesty, as good company as Bowie is, Zach isn't keen on spending the evening alone with his thoughts, especially after Miggs' confrontation. Zach can't shake the look in Miggs' face, and the pain in his chest when he realized that they were right. Zach's the Chief, he - he should've  _done_ something, he  _knew_ the beaches should've been closed, but Ned had insisted. And now Andrew's roped into this too; everyone thinks Andrew's right along with them, the Keep The Beach Open crew, when in reality, Andrew had been the strongest advocate for closing the beaches in the first place.

Zach sighs, murmuring a quiet thanks to Steven as the taller man takes away his plate, clearing the table. Zach springs up to help, because it's in his nature to help others, and takes the remaining plates to the kitchen.

The whole ordeal is rather silent. Dinner had been spent with Andrew and Zach updating Steven on the status of the shark problem:

"Caught," Zach had said, nodding to himself. "Mike Carrier and Ben Coleman's crew."

"A tiger shark," Andrew had added. "One of the deadliest sharks out there, apparently."

Jonathan had remained quiet.

"So the waters are safe, then," Steven had said, looking between the both of them expectantly.

Zach and Andrew had shared a look, both of them recalling Ryan's hesitation at declaring the creature the same one to terrorize their waters.

"As far as we know," Zach had replied carefully, and that was the end of that.

Zach returns to the table, intending to comfort Andrew, but pauses. Jonathan's seated beside his dad, and as Andrew sighs and takes a sip from his glass, Jonathan does, too.

Andrew puts his glass down, and Jonathan follows suit.

Andrew clasps his hands together, bending his head down so his mouth rests on his clasped hands, and, of course, Jonathan copies him - eyes trained on his dad to watch for his next move.

Steven enters from the kitchen, standing at the doorway behind Zach as he holds a sleeping Kat in his arms, and Zach turns around to grin at his new friend. No doubt Steven is feeling even more endeared at the scene than Zach is.

Andrew heaves a sigh, unaware of his little follower, and buries his face in his hands in a display of weariness. Jonathan eagerly does the same, hiding his face behind his hands just like his father. He peeks through his fingers to check if his dad has moved, and catches Steven's eye. There's a flicker of mirth in his eyes for a moment, and he turns back to train on Andrew.

It's moments like these that make Zach a little lonesome for a family of his own. He loves Bowie more than anything, but his house gets a little empty sometimes. And sure, he has Ned. Keith and Eugene too, whenever they visit. And of course, there's Sara and Ashly and Quinta and Garrett and Adam. And now, Andrew and Steven.

But he wants someone of his own.

It'll have to wait, though. For now, Zach's got all he needs.

Andrew finally surfaces from his moment of contemplation behind his hands, and therefore Jonathan brings his face up, too. It's at this moment that Andrew finally catches on to his imitator, and clasps his hands again out of experimentation.

Jonathan clasps his hands, too.

Andrew unclasps his hands.

Jonathan unclasps his, grinning widely as he attempts to hide his smile behind his hands.

Andrew scrunches up his nose, turning his mouth into a frown, going, "Grr."

Jonathan holds his hands up like claws, scrunching up his nose and saying, "Rrrr," in reply.

Zach wants to cry. They're so cute. This little family of theirs only makes Zach feel more proud of his job, the fact that he exists to keep people like them safe. If Jonathan had gotten hurt that day on the beach ...

Well, Zach would never,  _ever_ be able to live with himself. The death of Paige is already unbearable enough.

"Give us a kiss, squirt," Andrew murmurs, and Jonathan tilts his head.

"Why?"

Andrew's eyes flit towards Zach's briefly, and Zach understands why. Whether or not this shark business is over or not, it's still taken its toll on everyone, especially Andrew. He'd almost lost Jonathan, came  _so close._

"Because I need it," Andrew replies, and Jonathan happily leans forward to kiss his dad on the cheek.

"Now, get outta here," Andrew says, ruffling his son's hair. Jonathan slides off his chair, running over to hug Steven before heading away, presumably towards his room.

It's just the three of them now: Zach, Steven, and Andrew. Well, and Kat, but she's asleep, so Zach doesn't really count her.

Steven's just about to take a seat when the doorbell rings, and he rolls his eyes.

"Who the heck ..." he mumbles, turning towards the door. "Did you invite anyone else, Andrew?"

Andrew shakes his head, looking just as confused.

Zach can't really say anything, because it's not his house to invite people, and it's not like he has anyone to invite, anyways.

"I'll take Kat to her room, you go see who it is," Andrew says, standing up from his chair and walking towards his husband. He presses a kiss to Steven's cheek, just because he can, and takes Katherine into his arms. As he leaves, Steven pulls something from around Andrew's neck, the momentum of Andrew walking away making it easier for Steven to tug the thing off. It's Andrew's fateful towel. Zach still doesn't understand that thing.

"Hi, can I help you?" Zach hears Steven ask, and a familiar voice cheerfully replies, "Hey there! The door was open, mind if I come in?"

Zach stands and turns to greet their new guest.

"I'm Ryan Bergara," Ryan continues to Steven, and Steven's eyes widen in recognition of the name.

"Oh! Hey, Ryan, nice to meet you," he replies, shaking Ryan's hand amiably. "I'm Steven Lim, Andrew's husband."

"Nice to meet you, Steven," Ryan replies, and turns bright eyes towards Zach. He's got his denim jacket on and his dark jeans again, and his sneakers - no cap, though, so his hair is artfully swept upwards in a little quiff.

"Hey, Kornfeld. Fancy seeing you here. You're not the man of the house."

Zach rolls his eyes.

"Hi, Ryan. Andrew invited me over for dinner. I should be asking you why  _you're_ here."

Ryan shoots him a long-suffering look and says, "Because you weren't at your house," as if the answer is obvious.

Of course,  _duh,_ Andrew would obviously be the second resort or something if Ryan needed help, c'mon Zach, don't be  _stupid._

"I'd like to speak with your husband," Ryan says to Steven, and Steven laughs.

"Yeah, so would I."

Speak of the devil, Andrew comes into the dining room, rubbing his hands together. He looks inquisitively at the newcomer.

"Ryan, hi," he greets unsurely, nodding his head towards the shark expert. "What brings you here?"

Ryan takes a seat, and there's something about Ryan that commands the room - despite there being an actual Chief of Police and a Deputy in said room - that magically causes everyone to follow suit.

"I brought some wine," Ryan says, pulling two bottles of wine out of his bag. A bottle of white, and a bottle of red. "I wasn't sure what you'd be serving, so I just kinda played it safe."

Zach can see Andrew and Steven's eyes sparkling. He's learned that they're both  _massive_ foodies and love wine as much as any suburban mother.

"There's still some leftover steak, I'll bring it over," Steven says, smiling brightly at Ryan. Zach knows Steven well enough to tell that Steven has certainly taken quite a shine to Ryan. Maybe it's like, Asian solidarity or something. Zach hopes that's an okay thing to think.

As Steven bustles away to serve up a plate for Ryan, the three of them sit awkwardly, unwilling to address the elephant in the room. Namely, Ryan's presence. Not that Ryan's the elephant or anything, because he's not, he's not even fat, Ryan's  _not,_ but - okay, Zach's gonna stop thinking before he digs himself into a deeper hole. At least nobody here can read minds.

Steven sets a plate down in front of Ryan along with four glasses, and Andrew, as if habitually, pours some red wine into each glass.

"Oh, you might wanna let that breathe for a bit -" Ryan starts, but Andrew keeps going, and Ryan closes his mouth, nodding in acceptance.

Andrew's in a mood, Zach can tell. Steven can tell, too. Ryan, who knows, but Zach will say that that guy sure knows how to make an entrance. And read a room. Ryan's probably trying to break the tension, in a weird way. Zach hasn't quite figured this guy out yet.

Anyways. Since Andrew's in a mood, well, it's awkward.

Steven, thankfully, breaks the silence - cuts right through the stick of  _awkward_  like a butter knife.

"So Ryan," he says cheerfully, that affection for Ryan still remaining, "my husband tells me that you're into sharks."

Ryan chokes a little on his steak, and Steven grins, causing Ryan to grin back after his coughing subsides.

"Oh, well, I mean ... I've never really heard it put that way before, but hell yeah, I am! I  _love_ sharks," he exclaims happily. Zach knows the feeling - of finally being able to gush about your interests without interruption, or people calling you weird. Zach gets it.

Steven raises a brow in interest.

"You love sharks? That's so cool!"

Zach watches Ryan try not to preen.

"I, yeah -" he laughs a little, "- I love 'em. When I was twelve years old, my dad got me this boat. It - It wasn't amazing, wasn't the best, but it was the _coolest damn boat_ in my eyes, I loved it so much." Ryan's eyes get a little shiny. "And I went fishing off of Cape Cod one summer on vacation, and I hooked a scup! Which was pretty cool, uh, in my eyes, you know. And - and as I was reeling it in, I hooked a four and a half foot baby thrasher shark. Who proceeded to eat my boat." Ryan laughs a little, shaking his head. "He ate my uh, oar hooks, and my seat cushions, he turned an inboard into an outboard - scared me to _death."_ He shivers. "And I swam back to shore. And when I was on the beach, I turned around, and ... I _actually saw_ my boat being taken apart. And ever since then, yep," he pops the P, "I've been studying sharks, and ..." He trails off as if uncertain, before continuing with more firmness, " _that's_ why I know that I'm gonna go to the institute tomorrow and tell them you still have a shark problem here."

Andrew sighs.

"Now why'd you have to go and say that?" he grumbles at the same time Zach exclaims, "Why would you tell them that?"

Steven raises a hand.

"I'm sorry, what? Andy, I thought the shark was caught. You and Zach said so. And - and I saw it on the news, Keith did a little story on it."

Andrew blushes a little at the nickname, but Ryan quickly shakes his head. He's a man on a mission.

"Sure, they caught  _a_ shark," he says. "But not  _the_ shark. Not the shark that killed Tyler Williams. And probably not the shark that killed the little girl, which. Well," Ryan shrugs, "I wanted to prove today by cutting the shark open, but, uh, we were hindered."

Zach feels a buzz in his chest and he attempts to clamp it down. No use defending Ned's actions now, they were all there. Aside from Steven. They all know why Ned said no.

The silence stretches on for a bit, none of them really knowing what to say. Steven still looks confused, but that's really how they all feel.

They sip their wine in silence, Ryan continuing to eat his steak, until he finally speaks up.

"You know, you guys are going to be the only rational men on this island once I leave tomorrow."

Zach looks up in surprise, and he sees Andrew and Steven doing the same. Steven also looks pleased to be included.

"Where are you going?" Steven asks, head tilted like a puppy.

"SCIMI to tell them of your shark problem, then off for eighteen months at sea on the _Unsolved_ , for shark research," Ryan replies, shrugging. "You know."

Zach doesn't, but he nods anyways.

Steven wraps an arm around Andrew's shoulders, holding him close. The gesture is rather sweet, but the words that come out of Steven's mouth are purely teasing.

"Andrew hates boats," he says fondly. "He _hates_ water, he - Andrew sits in the car when we go on the ferry to the mainland. Maybe it's a childhood thing?" he muses, cheek pressed up against Andrew's, who tries in vain to swat him away. "There's like, a clinical name for it, isn't there?"

"Drowning," Andrew replies bluntly, and pushes Steven off. He holds his husband's hand, though, to show that he isn't being mean.

Zach agrees with Andrew - he's terrified of the ocean, too. He voices as much, to show solidarity, and Andrew shoots him a little smile before turning back to Ryan.

"Listen, Bergara. Is it true that most people that get attacked by sharks in three feet of water? About ten feet from the beach?"

Ryan gives him a curious look, but nods. "Yup."

"And that before people started to swim for recreation - before sharks knew what they were missing - that a lot of these attacks weren't reported."

Ryan nods again. "That's right."

Andrew offers up no other comment or question or query, but Zach can see the gears turning in Andrew's head, and, surprisingly, Zach can finish this thought for him.

"So this guy, he keeps swimming around in a place where the feeding is good, until the food supply is gone, right?" Zach continues, glancing at Andrew who smiles at him. They're probably onto something - about why this shark is behaving this way all of a sudden.

"Yeah, it's called territoriality," Ryan says cheerfully, happy that he can talk shark with them, probably. "It's just a theory that I happen to agree with."

Andrew downs the rest of his wine, and Steven raises a brow at him but doesn't say anything.

Zach nods as he thinks to himself, then stands up.

"So these people aren't just being needlessly killed. Buzz is feeding," he muses, then claps his hands together. "Alright. Well, how about we finish up our drinks and then go down and cut that tiger shark open?"

Andrew raises his now-empty glass as a  _cheers to that_ sort of gesture, and Ryan eats the last forkful of steak before standing.

Steven glances at the three of them, brow furrowing with a million questions that they don't have the time for, but Andrew will most-likely answer later tonight.

"Zach, can you do that?" Steven settles on, looking up at Zach curiously.

Zach grins, downing the rest of his wine too, before replying.

"I can do anything, Steve-o. I'm the Chief of Police."

 

Andrew can't quite explain why he's crouched on the dock's storage area, flashlight shining brightly to assist Ryan Bergara as he slices down the shark's belly, but. Stranger things have happened. Ryan's carving through the shark's stomach as if it were a pumpkin, back and forth in order to penetrate the thick skin and blubber of the thing. Andrew shudders at the thought of ever encountering this beast in its domain.

"Just getting to the digestive tract," Ryan mutters, seemingly to himself, and labors through.

Andrew risks a quick glance at Zach who's crouched beside him, forehead creasing as blood and guts pour out of the shark and onto the wood of the dock. It's pretty nasty, Andrew has to admit, and he grimaces as the blood drips down steadily. Along with something that looks like milk.

His eyes widen in dismay as Ryan adjusts his gloves before  _reaching inside the shark._  Before he can even think, a fish head is being flung at him.

"Wha - hey! What the fuck?!" Andrew exclaims, dodging away as Ryan flings more dead fish in his direction. Zach has, smartly, stood up and headed off to the side, so it's only Andrew in the line of fire.

As Ryan rummages through the shark's stomach - and  _god,_ as he stretches the skin around it makes a  _rubbery noise_ \- Andrew can see him holding his breath to avoid breathing in the awful stench. Ryan exhales all in one go, breathing in through his mouth quickly to avoid smelling. In the meantime, a tin can clatters at Andrew's feet.

"What the -"

"Aha! Just like I thought," Ryan exclaims, although it doesn't sound as  _Eureka!_ -like as it should due to his labored gasps for breath.

"What?" Zach asks. He goes to step closer, right onto a fish head, and decides against it.

"This guy probably came up in the equatorial counter-current," Ryan explains, voice strained as he tries to yank something out. "From southern waters - Central American, maybe even Caribbean, but I doubt it."

With one final heave, a license plate clatters to the ground at Andrew's feet, all bent and mangled. Andrew picks it up, and Zach steps forward to shine his flashlight on it.  _PANAMA_ it reads at the top, along with an assortment of letters and numbers. Underneath is printed,  _UNIDAD HACIA EL FUTURO._

"Panama," Zach murmurs, brows furrowing. "This guy swam all the way up here?"

"Not necessarily uncommon," Ryan replies, wiping his brow with his sleeve. It's due to this gesture that Andrew realizes something: Ryan has stopped digging.

"You've stopped," Andrew says, just to point out the obvious. Ryan nods.

"Yeah, that's it."

There's a sick feeling in Andrew's stomach, roiling inside him, threatening to spill out like the contents of that shark.  _That's it._

"No dead bodies," Zach pipes up, saying what they're all thinking. "Not even any body  _parts._ "

They all look around at each other, grim acceptance settling over them like fog settling over a field. This isn't their shark.

 "We gotta close the beach," Andrew sighs, running a hand over his face before realizing that it's the same hand that held the license plate. The license plate that had just been  _inside the shark._ "Fuck!" he exclaims, scrubbing his face with his shirt. Zach wordlessly hands him a bottle of hand sanitizer, which he takes gratefully.

"Gotta call the mayor, too," Zach says as an after-thought. "Ned has the right to know."

"You've got a hell of a bigger problem than that, Zach," Ryan says grimly. "You guys've got a huge fucking fish out there, with a mouth that's about -" Ryan stretches his arms out on either side of him, so they extend at a hefty length, "- this big."

Zach gulps audibly, and Andrew doesn't feel too hot about that fun fact either.

"How do we confirm that by morning, though?" he muses. "Our attempts to close the beaches have all been thwarted so far, and now that everyone thinks the shark is dead, it'll be harder to convince them. The town council will probably just think that we're lying, because they're a bunch of old fucks, or whatever."

Zach and Ryan crack smiles at that, and Andrew pretends that he isn't pleased about it.

"Well," Ryan muses, "if our theories are right, and he's a) a rogue, and b) territorial, then I'll bet that we've got a pretty good chance at finding him anywhere along the San Pedro Channel; between Isthmus Cove and Twin Rocks, from my best guess." Ryan takes off a glove and runs a hand through his hair - he's hat-less tonight. "Hm, on a less-likely guess? He could even be just within the coves, up to Bird Rock."

Andrew nods in thought. "Could he even go up to the Californian coast? Terminal Island, maybe?"

Ryan gives a rueful grin. "Ah, Terminal Island. That's where I'm stationed, but I'm sure you know."

Andrew  _does_  know that, which is why he suggested it, in the hopes that Ryan's prestigious marine institute could step in for them and save the day. Because really, this situation is way bigger than a small, island-town Chief of Police and his Deputy.

Ryan shakes his head after a moment.

"Nah," he says, short and sweet. "As much as I'd like to imagine that our old pal Sharky kicks back with the Queen Mary on weekends, I don't think his territory extends  _that_ far." He cocks his head from side to side, as if considering. "Well, definitely that direction, possibly. Somewhere between The Isthmus and the coast."

"So which is more likely?" Zach asks, frowning. "Does he frequent our coves up to Twin Rocks? Or our coves up to somewhere beyond Bird Rock but not-quite-the-coast?"

But Ryan isn't listening - he shucks off his gloves and wipes his hands on a nearby towel before standing up completely. Andrew can see the gears turning in his head as he heads out towards the marina, determination in his step.

"Hey, woah, where're you going?" Zach asks, scrambling to stand. Andrew straightens and, realizing that Ryan isn't coming back, he strides after him.

"Where are you off to, Bergara?" Andrew asks, catching up to him. Zach stumbles into step with them after a moment.

"Sharky's a night feeder, so we're going to find him," Ryan says easily, navigating his way down to the docks.

 "On ... On the water?" Zach asks skeptically, taking a cautious step back before realizing he has to keep walking.

"Well Zach, if we're looking for a shark, we sure as hell aren't gonna find him on land," Ryan retorts, climbing down the ladder to the docks.

"I'm not drunk enough to go out on a boat," Andrew mutters, and Zach nods emphatically in agreement. They stand at the edge of the pier, looking down at Ryan, who's on the dock below them, heading towards his boat - a 28' pacemaker.

"Yes, you are," Ryan calls, turning with his hands on his hips to face the two of them. "C'mon, you guys are the authority here. You're telling me you can't get on a boat?"

"I can't do that!" Zach exclaims, clinging to the pier railing. Andrew shrugs in agreement - his way of saying,  _well, what can you do._

Ryan's some ways away, but Andrew can see his eye-roll loud and clear.

"Yes,you  _can."_

So it really shouldn't be much of a surprise when Andrew and Zach trade a dubious look before climbing down the ladder onto the dock. But not before taking a swig from Andrew's flask.

Zach wipes his mouth with his sleeve before handing Andrew's flask back with a grateful grin, and they head down to join their shark expert.

Ryan eyes them disapprovingly.

"It won't be  _that_ bad, guys. It's a boat. She's safe, I promise."

Andrew glares at Ryan for a long moment.

"If I drown, it's on you," he says finally, then boards Ryan's death-trap of a boat.

Zach hesitates a moment before Ryan gives him a gentle shove, and soon enough all three of them are standing in the cabin of the  _Unsolved_ , and only one of them looks happy about it.

"Investigate a lot of mysteries?" Andrew mutters, looking uneasy even though they haven't even left the docks yet.

"Hmm?" Ryan asks absent-mindedly as he steers the boat out into the open water.

" _Unsolved,_ " Zach supplies helpfully, and Andrew thanks whatever god out there that _someone_ sane is with him on this endeavor.

 "Oh." Ryan turns to look at them briefly before fixing his gaze back to the expanse of ocean. "I just really like shows and books about crime. Murder mysteries. Unsolved mysteries. They're interesting."

Andrew can kind of relate. He's kind of a Deputy, after all.

"Plus, I feel like my job as an oceanographer is like being a different type of detective," Ryan continues thoughtfully. His tone's a little embarrassed, like he's ashamed to be admitting this to them. "Solving the mysteries of the ocean and its inhabitants, one research project at a time. But the ocean's an enigma. I don't think we'll ever really know all there is to know about it. Like I don't think humankind as a whole will ever truly have the universe completely figured out."

The three of them stand in silence for a long time after that. In their defense, Andrew and Zach are a little too drunk for pondering something like mankind and the universe.

They ride in silence for a while, nothing but the waves and the hum of the boat's engine making any sound. Andrew tries to stay as far from the edge of the boat as possible, and Zach sticks by Ryan at the wheel as much as possible.

"You know," Andrew muses, just for the sake of talking, his voice a little slurred, "the crime rate in Los Angeles will kill you. Literally. There's been so many homicides lately. And - and there's so many problems, you never feel like you're accomplishing anything. Violence, muggings, kids can't leave the house if they're male and a minority, they might get killed. But in Two Harbors, one man can make a difference." He pauses to regain his train of thought. "I was reading the records at the station and apparently, in twenty five years, there's never been a shooting or murder in this town."

"That's rough," Zach says at the same time Ryan extends a box of Mister Salty's towards Andrew, eyes never leaving the water, and asks, "Want a pretzel?"

Zach fishes his hand into the box and grabs a handful while Andrew blinks and looks around.

"Hey Ryan, where are we?"

Ryan squints at the blackness ahead of him and Andrew can see why - it's a little hard to tell where the sky ends and the ocean begins. The horizon is almost invisible, except the moon is shining, and she sheds a little helpful light.

"Right in the stretch where Buzz feeds," Ryan says, squinting a little more. "Or, where Buzz  _has_ been feeding lately."

Andrew stares at the TV monitor, and Ryan notices.

"I uh, I have underwater cameras fore and aft," he explains. "It's a closed circuit TV system, so no, I can't watch actual TV on here."

"Who pays for all this stuff anyways?" Zach asks, walking around the deck as he looks at all of Ryan's fancy equipment. Sonar, cameras, monitors, it's all very high-tech. "The government?" Zach continues. "The institute? This stuff must've cost a  _lot_ of money, dude."

"Oh," Ryan says, scratching the back of his neck as he slows down the boat. "Uh, well, I paid for this mostly myself, actually."

Andrew and Zach turn to look at Ryan incredulously.

"Wha -  _you?"_ Andrew asks, eyes a little wide. "You're kidding."

"Nope."

"You're rich?" Andrew asks, head cocked a little. He never took Ryan Bergara to be rich, no matter how cool his clothes look for an oceanographer.

"Y-Yeah?"

"They pay someone like you to watch sharks?" Zach asks in awe. "Dude, you're telling me I could've became rich just by watching some clownfish my entire life?"

"Hey, oceanography is much more than just staring at fish," Ryan protests defensively.

"Doesn't make sense," Andrew mutters, but Ryan shrugs.

"Well, it doesn't make sense for two guys who hate the water to live on an island, either."

"It's only an island if you look at it from the water," Zach supplies helpfully, and Ryan actually pauses at that.

"Huh. Now _that_ makes sense."

Andrew ignores the two in favor of looking at some weird dial with a bunch of numbers on it, with a red light blinking from 0 to 70 with a little _beep_.

"What's that thing doing?" Andrew asks, pointing at it.

Ryan turns to the dial, leaning over it as the red light blinks.

"That's a fish finder. It's probably just detected a school of mackerel or something all clumped together," he says, glancing at it indifferently. The radar starts to beep more insistently, causing Ryan to pay it more attention. "Huh. Wait a minute," he murmurs, staring intently at the radar. "There's something else out there."

"What is it?" Zach asks, head popping over Ryan's shoulder to look at the dial.

"Um." Ryan squints at the radar before glancing up at the water ahead. "About ... South, southwest? A hundred yards."

The boat cruises leisurely forward, and the beam of the searchlight at the bow falls upon a wreckage. Zach gasps.

"That ... That's Ben Coleman's boat," he says, horrified.

"What, one of the guys who caught the tiger shark?" Ryan asks incredulously. "What's his boat doing out  _here?"_

“It’s all banged up,” Andrew murmurs, taking in the sight. “Jesus Christ, what happened?”

“Guys, I gotta go down there and check the hull, alright?” Ryan says, peering over the edge of his boat to get a better look at Ben’s. “Sit tight.”

“Woah, woah,” Andrew says, holding a hand out. “Wait a minute, Ryan. Shouldn’t we just tow it all in?”

Ryan nods emphatically, already tugging on his wetsuit, tossing his jacket onto the floor.

“We will, Andrew. We will. I just ... I gotta check something out, okay? Zach, hit the lights for me.”

Zach grabs a big flashlight as Ryan shrugs on some flippers and grabs a scuba mask. The flashlight isn’t really a flashlight, it’s more of another searchlight attached to a chord. Ryan grabs an actual waterproof flashlight as he hops up onto the edge of his boat.

“Last call for just towing it in,” Andrew says warily as Ryan balances precariously on the ledge.

Ryan shoots him an amused look over his shoulder and laughs.

“Nothing’s gonna happen, Andrew,” he assures him. “Don’t worry. And stop shaking, Zach,” he calls in Zach’s direction, rolling his eyes. “You’re the Chief of Police, dude. Get it together.”

“You’re the Chief of Police _how?”_ Andrew mutters, but Zach isn’t listening.

“If something goes wrong, that’s on me,” he says quietly. “I can’t have more people getting hurt, or worse, on my watch.”

“ _Nothing’s gonna happen, Zach,”_ Ryan insists, then slides on his mask. “Alright boys, see you in two.”

“Hey, wait!” Andrew calls just as Ryan is about to drop into the water. “What do we do while you’re gone?”

“Nothing,” Ryan says firmly. “Absolutely _nothing_. Don’t touch anything – not the equipment, not the boat, nada. Understand, guys? I’ll be back in two minutes. Adios.”

Andrew watches as Ryan slides off the ledge and into the inky water of the ocean below.

 

Ryan glances upwards, making sure that Zach is keeping the light trained on him. He has a flashlight of his own to see ahead of him, but he needs Zach’s light to see his immediate surroundings.

He swims past the side of his ship, the bright lights on the bottom also helping to illuminate the murky darkness. It’s a little eerie, Ryan won’t lie, but he isn’t scared. He’s well-protected, he’s barely even twenty feet away from the _Unsolved_ , and he has Andrew and Zach on-edge, ready to spring into action if the need arises.

He’s pretty well-taken care of, all in all.

Ryan kicks his feet to propel himself forward, the flippers making him feel like a dolphin, or even a merman. Swimming has always been a freeing feeling – like flying, but in water. Definitely like flying, though. Ryan’s had his fair share of swimming with fishes, with dolphins, with coral reefs and even almost a whale, once. (It was at a really far distance, but it was swimming and he was swimming, so it’s close enough.)

Never a shark.

And he’s hoping to god that tonight won’t be the night.

Ryan’s free hand reaches up to skim along the hull of Ben’s boat, admiring the make of it for a brief moment before getting down to business. He notices something in the hole of the hull, a glimmer of white caught by the beam of his flashlight. He tugs on it – it’s stuck, embedded in the boat’s wood. With a little more strength and the use of a pocket knife to wedge it out, it comes free, and Ryan’s eyes widen as he holds the loose tooth of a shark.

The tooth is a stark white, gleaming in the light, and ... Its length is just about as long as Ryan’s fingers. It isn’t as big as his palm, but it’s a near thing, and just picturing a tooth of this size ripping through a body is enough to make Ryan shudder violently.

Ryan grips the tooth in his hand and heads towards the hole in the boat again, determined to find any more markings or evidence to confirm his ever-growing suspicions.

He pulls the wood closer to him, attempting to reach inside the hole, but something brushes against his hand and he tenses up. It’s slimy, a weird texture, and ... Big.

Panic grips his chest as a figure floats out of the hole and before he can breathe a sigh of relief that it isn’t a shark, his chest is even tighter because _holy shit, that’s a human head._

It’s still fresh – there’s blood pooled around the water where it floats, especially coming from the eye that’s been torn out from the skull. The other eye remains glassy and unseeing, the hair rippling through the waves, and the mouth open in an ever-present scream. It’s Ben Coleman all right. Well, his head, at least. _Just_ his head.

Ryan very nearly gasps – it’s a close call - and drops the tooth in his haste to scramble away, his flippers tangling his legs together with all the grace of a clumsy penguin. He needs to get out of there _now._ As he rushes to get to the surface, he realizes he’s dropped more than the tooth – his waterproof flashlight and his knife are gone, too: sunk into the inky, unforgiving depths below.

No time to dwell on it now. Ryan’s head breaks the surface and he gasps for air, head whipping around wildly and hair plastered to his face.

Zach and Andrew are at the _Unsolved’s_ edge in an instant, eyes wide and arms open, ready to pull him in.

Ryan bobs in the water for a moment, breathing deeply to the point of hyperventilating, then glances up at the worried faces of the Chief of Police and the Deputy and promptly passes out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. sorry Ben  
> 2\. [there were indeed lots of homicides in LA from 1970 - 1979](http://www.cdc.gov/mmwr/preview/mmwrhtml/00000841.htm)  
> 3\. [Ashly indeed has a sibling, Miggs, who goes by they/them](http://twitter.com/itsashlyperez/status/895360534010146816)  
> 4\. Zach is indeed humming Ocean Man even though it was released in 1997 but this fic has an unspecified time-frame so!! who cares!!!  
> 5\. all the institutions that I mentioned are, indeed, real  
> 6\. [watch the actual jaws version for the cute mimic scene between Andrew and Jonathan](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5AiYQtzRD8w)  
> 7\. [watch the actual jaws scene of a head with one eye coming out of a hole in a boat](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RMFyoBf0CWI&)  
> 8\. the guy who died in jaws' name is Ben Gardner so it was only a given that our good ol' Ben Coleman would die  
> 9\. if you think I only named the shark "Buzz" so I could make buzzfeed puns .... you're absolutely fuckin right


	5. Interruptus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> beware there's lots of commas also sorry this took like 5 months

"That shark guy says we didn't catch the real shark."

Mike rolls his eyes as he shrugs off his jacket, hanging it on some pole.

They're still at the pier, the crowd of people having subsided and the media having left. All that remain are fishermen, either packing their gear or trying their hand out in Isthmus Cove for some drift-fishing.

"You're right," Mike says. "The guy who's getting paid to be here definitely wouldn't try to do anything to extend his stay."

Ben shoots Mike a withering look, huffing a breath out in frustration.

"Look, Mike, I think that guy know's what he's talking about. He's an  _expert,_ he was goin' off about bite radius and stuff, and - and he looked really concerned."

Mike walks down to the docks, hands in his pants pockets as he makes his way to the water's edge, his footsteps echoing on the wood. He doesn't turn to face his best friend, a fact that Ben is frustrated about, and he stands there, watching the water for a long moment.

"Ben, you and I have been fishing for about as long as we can remember," he says evenly, still not turning to look at him. Ben stands a little ways behind him, arms crossed. "Sure, you and I, we've never caught a shark before. But that thing was  _huge,"_ Mike continues, voice getting more animated. He finally turns to Ben, eyes wide. "C'mon, man, you saw that thing! It was enormous. You think a shark like that couldn't have killed two people and a dog? And - and it was a tiger shark, right? That's what the guy said? Tiger sharks are one of the most deadliest sharks."

Ben shrugs, unconvinced.

"I mean, sure," he concedes, "but I still can't shake the feeling that ... What if it  _isn't_ the shark, huh, Mike? What if we caught a shark - which is fucking amazing in itself, don't get me wrong - but it's not  _the_ shark?" Ben shakes his head with an incredulous laugh. "I mean, what, Mike, do you think you can  _outsmart_ a literal shark expert?"

"Yeah, honestly, maybe I do," Mike says loudly, almost defensively. "That guy's been studying fish, but does he have any experience actually catching them? For all we know, he just sits and watches them and writes down his observations -  _Ben,"_ he says firmly, gripping the shorter man's arms. "We caught the shark, saved the town, all that good stuff. We did  _good,_ buddy." He pats Ben's arm reassuringly before turning back to look at the water. "We did  _good."_

Ben looks out at the ocean and watches the fishermen go about their routines. They're all varying in age, but majority of them are old guys who've been fishing all their lives. A good amount, however, are guys Mike and Ben's age. Ben watches them particularly closely.

It isn't that Ben doubts his skill, or Mike's for that matter. Mike is something of a super genius when it comes to street smarts. He's clever and always thinks outside of the box; his problem-solving skills are  _fantastic,_ Ben has no idea what he'd do without Mike's resourcefulness. It's gotten them both out of some pretty sticky situations in the past, both fishing and non-fishing related. God, the two of them in high school together were quite the teacher's nightmare.

And Ben's really smart, too. He trusts his instincts, follows his gut, all that jazz. He knows the ideal feeding times just by  _knowing,_ he can just  _tell._ He can tell you where the best spots are, too. Ben's not a professional fisherman, but he's definitely getting there. He can perform a pretty mean sink and draw, if he does say so himself.

And, well, he and Mike  _did_ manage to catch a tiger shark. A huge-ass tiger shark. That's impressive as all get-out, especially for them. So yeah, Ben's not doubting his skill in the slightest.

But he can't help but feel that something's not  _right._ He doesn't think they've caught the right shark. And naturally, Mike's too proud, or delusional, or  _both,_ to admit it.

"Chillax. The town's safe now, Coleslaw," Mike teases, nudging Ben's shoulder a little. "No more human-burgers to be eaten by hungry sharks."

 

Ben wobbles a little, his footing a tad unsteady underneath the rolling waves. He hasn't been on his boat in a while - they've always been on Mike's, since it's bigger and sturdier. Mike and Ben always go fishing together. Ben hasn't fished by himself in a long time.

He runs a hand over the wooden edge, smiling to himself as he relishes in the feel of it. It's not an overly impressive boat by far - big, but not huge. Just a simple Wellcraft V20, perfect for fishing and hanging out. Possibly good enough for shark hunting. That's still yet to be determined.

It's late. Well, early evening, but still. The sun is dipping in the sky, Ben can see it as he chases the wind, heading northeast in the direction of Harbor Reef.  He doesn't expect the shark to be all the way there, but the general direction should suffice. He has no idea where to go to catch this shark, no idea where to even start  _looking,_ but it's ... It's a whim that needs to be pursued. Even if he  _doesn't_ catch the shark, well, he can at least try and locate it.

Who is he kidding, Ben has no idea what he's doing. He really doesn't. He has no plan, no goal, no  _nothing._ Nothing except for the motivation stemming from the fact that he knows Mike is wrong. It fuels him.

"Just try and find the shark," Ben tells himself, and looks over his shoulder at the huge chunk of meat he's got in a bucket. It's meant to be cooked into a roast, but Safiya hadn't looked like she wanted to use it and Ben was more than happy to take it off her hands.

The least he can do is catch this damn shark to pay her back. Tyler was a great man, one of Ben's childhood pals, and that shark took away one of Ben's oldest friends. Sharky's got some hell to pay, to say the least.

Ben heads a bit further out into the water, the wind tousling his hair. The sun's a little ways above the horizon, and the evening air is cool all around him. Under any other circumstance, this would be a beautiful evening. But Ben can't help but feel a little chill down his spine at what he's doing. This night can end in many different ways, and Ben hopes to God that it turns out in his favour.

The boat cuts deep into Harbor Reef and Ben stops, jerking forward with the sudden, jerky motion.  _This is it,_ he thinks. Something tells him that this is a good area to be in. It just feels like a shark-y sort of place.

Ben turns around, hands on his hips, as he eyes the bucket containing the meat chunk. It has a hook dug into it, attached to a long, sturdy chain, which is in turn attached securely to the boat. He shakes his head and whistles at the sight of it.

"You better bring me a shark," he mutters to it, squatting down to lift the bucket. He heaves it over the edge, making sure the chain holds steady as the meat sinks farther into the inky depths. It's all rather poetic, sort of, in a way, but Ben can't care to dwell on that now.

So he sits in anticipation, right leg shaking up a storm. He'll feel a damn fool in the morning if this trip turns out to be a dud,  _or_ he'll feel victorious after catching that murderous son-of-a-gun. He probably should've at least told Mike, but the look of surprise and defeat on the other man's face as Ben heads home with the  _real_ shark in tow is too priceless to pass up. Things have always been a healthy competition between the two of them, it keeps things fresh. The prank wars they used to get up to were  _legendary._

Ben supposes he could've told someone else that he was coming. His girlfriend, maybe. The Chief, heck, even the shark guy. But it's too late to do anything about that now. Ben's alone, the sun is almost disappearing, and he's on a boat with a dangerous shark potentially swimming around the area.

But Ben can do this. He thought ahead, considered many possibilities, he even brought a  _gun._ The chain is tight and secure, the meat is floating down below somewhere, and he's got as much equipment as he needs in order to catch this big fish and save the town once and for all.

Feeling confident, Ben steadies his shaking leg. He sits back, almost leisurely, and he waits.

And waits.

And waits.

And ... Nothing happens. Nothing happens for a long time.

The sun is nearly gone underneath the horizon, and Ben  _is_ starting to get a little impatient. He'd planned on staying for as long into the night as he needed, but he's having more than a few second thoughts.

Ben heaves a tired sigh of defeat, and stands up to reel in the meat before heading back home.

And then something heavy rocks the boat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah you're right, I DID just make that outsmarted pun


End file.
